Stop, Hammer Time!
by kkolmakov
Summary: Aphrodite has always been Daddy's girl but surely some screws in Zeus's noggin have gone loose! She cannot marry Hephaestus! He is grotty, unsophisticated, doesn't like poetry and his sacred animal is an ass! Thorin as Hephaestus, my usual OC, Wren as the Goddess of Love and his reluctant betrothed COMPLETE. COMPANION FIC ADDED AT THE END
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: That's a completely bonkers idea that came to me while I was cooking pasta. I saw Athena's picture on the olive oil bottle and my mind leaped into Greek mythology. Thorin as Hephaestus made me burn my dinner and run to the computer. Enjoy my madness, my lovelies! It is a multi chapter fic now. I'm stressed by my job search and just want to write some barmy rubbish :)**

"Hey, Phro! A word?" You are dangling your foot in the clear pond, your toes gently caressing a water lily. It prims up, petals immediately coloured with a gentle pink blush. Thea walks from around a tree, her curvaceous body clad in a tunic of the latest fashion, an inch above her knees, a very popular slit cut on her right thigh. She is so fit, you don't need to do your magic for everyone to go randy around her. Seriously, how do they still call her the Virgin Goddess of Wisdom? You sigh, you are bored. "Phro, are you listening to me?" You turn your head and frown at Thea.

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that? Somehow you got a proper nickname, Thea, instead of some obnoxious Athy. Spare me the Phro!" She helps her owl from off her shoulder and lowers the sleepy bird on a branch of your myrtle bush. Then she sits on the grass near you and looks at your attentively.

"You do not seem that bedraggled," her voice is cautious. You are twirling a mirror in your hands. You inspect your nose and pleased with your freckles, they are additionally adorable today, you look at her askew.

"Why would I be bedraggled?" You quickly think back at the latest news. Nothing to really concern you. Eros got pissed again, shot some old blighter in Lindos, that was hilarious. Dad was cheesed off, but who can stay angry to the chubby berk? He is such a darling. Hermes nicked Apollo's lyre again, and there is some chat about Daphne and Hermes, but honestly, you have nothing to do with it. The daft kiddies have gotten into this aggro themselves. "Have I missed something?"

Thea bites into her plump bottom lip, and you are suddenly very, very uncomfortable. She is after all a goddess of war, directness is in her nature, her awkward squirming is freaking you out. "Common, Thea, you are being dodgy! What is it?"

She puts her warm palm on your shoulder, "Dad announced it today at the staff meeting, he made his decision..." You don't like the sound of it, you are bloody not liking it at all. You were not at the meeting, your were fixing a cocked up marriage of one senator on Cyprus. "He chose the husband for you, I thought Hermes has already came to talk to you about it..."

"What?!" You jump up on your feet. No fucking way in hell! Or should you say, in Hades. And then a scary thought comes. Oh no, please tell me, it's not Hades! Him and his Gothic make up, all black, and that weird Scandinavian rock with barmy mealing sounds in it that he is listening to! "I am not going to bloody like it, am I?"

Judging by Thea's facial expression, you are not. Bugger, it is Hades. Even Apollo is better than Hades, he is a ponce and such, but at least he has a taste in clothes. There is still a chance it is Ares, but he is a bloody jock! All muscles and testerone, guh… You really prefer sensitive blokes, artistic type, the ones you can talk poetry to…

"It is Hephaestus…" Bloody sod, you are fucked! You plop on the grass and stare at Thea. The corners of her mouth are lowered mournfully.

"No, Thea, tell me you are taking a piss out of me here! Not him..." She sadly nods, and you flail your arms. "Is Dad bladdered? In what universe me and Hephaestus is a brill idea? The bloke is grotty!" You cover your face with your hands and groan. "The limp. The manky clothes, have you seen his toga? It is so last season. And he is obsessed with his hammer!" Thea snorts. "Oh grow up! You are supposedly the goddess of wisdom! Not that hammer!" You sit up, your eyes widened in panic. "Speaking of hammers, what if he… you know… small? I can't marry a bloke with a tiny pecker! I am a goddess of shagging after all! What will people say?!"

Thea pats your shoulder. "He is probably alright. He is tall and wide after all..."

You screw your eyes at her. "Are you telling me you don't know what's under his toga? Common, Thea, I am not that dozy, surely you have been there, you glorious trollop." She vigorously shakes her head. "Thea..." Your tone is menacing.

"I swear to you, Phro, I have not. I'll tell you the whole story, but promise me, you'll never tell it to anybody else!" You solemnly nod. She sighs. "I did go to him once, you know, to the forge. He threw me out." You hike up your brows. "Literally, he grabbed me across my middle and threw me out. There was some giant washtub there, I guess they dunk the swords in it after forging, so I landed in it. That pillock ruined my toga! And I had just got commissioned to my arachne." You are gaping at her. That is the most mental story you have ever heard. No one says "no" to Thea. Especially to Thea in her special togas. The arachne know what they are doing.

A horrible thought comes to your mind. "He is floppy, isn't he? That is what it is about."

"No, I am certain, he is not. A bit po-faced and Billy no-mates, but I'm sure..." You do not let her finish. With a tragic sob you fall on the ground, all flowers immediately withering around you. A couple of dead birds fall off a tree and Thea's owl isn't looking that healthy either.

You are bawling. "I don't want to marry him. I want parties, roses, myrtle, my swans and sparrows, and doves..."

Thea is momentarily distracted from your hysterics. "What's with you and bloody birds, Phro?"

"Oh bugger off, Thea! I love birds. They are fluffy and cheery! Look at the latest thing I made!" You conjure a wren on your palm and show it to her. She is looking at the bird with suspicion, and you sniff. "It's a wren, you barmpot! Look how cute it is! And look at this upturned arse! Such a fit bird, all other birds will be in love with it!" Thea looks very doubtful, and you fall on the grass again.

You are sobbing, and she moves a bit closer. "Seriously, Phro, he is not that bad! Have you seen his chest and arms?" That shushes your crying a bit. What about his chest and arms? You are struggling to remember what he looked like exactly, after Hera threw him out of Olympus no one has seen much of him. He was dark, that much you can recall, tall, wide, and there was something strange about his eyes. Either they were of some mental colour, or one was different from another... Around that time you were so preoccupied with Adonis, the eyes of some limping geezer were the least of your concerns. He had manky clothes that's for sure.

You sit up and wipe your eyes. "I don't remember what he looked like..." And then you shake your head sadly, "But you of all people should know, Thea, that looks aren't everything, the content of his noggin is more important." Judging by the fact that Thea is suddenly preoccupied with her nails, she is not very optimistic regarding Hephaestus' noggin. Neither are you. The bloke is working his arse off in a forge all day. You have nothing in common.

You decisively get up and throw your ginger curls behind your shoulders. You are not going to give up that easily, you are a goddess, and not some chavvy goddess of baking cookies or something. You are beauty, you are love, you are Aphrodite. You are not letting them marry you out to some uneducated, unsophisticated geezer whose sacred animal is a donkey!

You straighten your shoulders and clap. The previously dead birds and flowers around you rejoice, chirping and pleasant aroma fill the air, and you look at Thea haughtily. "I want to see Dad. I need to talk to him. Surely there was some mistake, and someone in HR arsed up." Thea is silent. "What?"

"It was Dad's decision. He chose Hephaestus himself."

"What?!" It seems to be the word of the day. "Based on what sodding argument?"

"Pretty much all gods voted and decided that you needed to marry someone… Well… Not so fit. To balance how hot you are." You are staring at her again. "You know, you are all lush and a sex kitten, so they thought it'll sort of balance you out. And Dad suggested Hephaestus." What the actual fuck? "And the Smith agreed. They sent Hermes to him, and he said he would marry you."

"He said he would marry me..." You feel like all air has been knocked out of you. "Tell me the truth, Thea," you slowly turn to her and pin her down with a burning glare. She squirms. "What exactly did the bloody Smith say?"

She sighs and gives in to her fate, "He said he would marry a horse if he were allowed to return to Olympus for that." You clench a fist and grind your teeth. A horse?! You will show him a horse! You will break his other leg and after you are done with him the story of your birth will seem a cheery bedtime story in comparison with what you will do to his cock! You conjure a cloak and wrap in it.

"Phro, where are you?..."

You turn to her, and she shrinks away from the rage in your eyes. "I am going to visit my dearest future hubby. I am going to give him a chance to look his gift horse in the mouth so to say." You flex your fingers. You might not have Thea's spear or Temmy's bow, but you can always just knock a few of his teeth out. Since they are marrying you out to him for his mankiness, no one will care if he is missing a couple of canines.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hahahaha, dear ****Guest**** who mentioned Amrod in their review, I love you! I haven't even thought of him, I was just very preoccupied with the idea of Thorin working in a forge, sweaty and dirty… Yum… But now that you mentioned it… :P**

**A/N#2: I used a quote from my other favourite ginger, Natasha Romanoff here :) No infringement intended :)**

You attempt to majestically apparate in the middle of his forge, but you are so livid that your aim is bodged up, and you are standing in the middle of the field in front of the old stone building, walls darkened, roof crooked. The grass below your feet is botchy, yellowish and uncared for, you notice a few stumps, and you see red. Bloody smith, bloody fire, kills and dries out everything around! You shake off your cloak and start working. A few nice fluid movements of your arms, and here are the primroses showing their cute heads around, you twirl gracefully, a few cedars make two proper rows on the sides of the alley, leading to the forge, and you already hear birds chirping inside the dark green branches.

"What in the name of Zeus Almighty are you doing?" A gruff angry voice behind you barks, and you turn on your heels. Yep, that is undoubtedly your future master and commander. Bloody fuck, he is large!

And Thea was right. You hate when Thea is right. But that is one glorious chest! And the arms. Which is rather easy to notice since he is naked from the waist of his manky trousers up. You wrinkle your nose. Whatever his physique is, he is wearing trousers, like a barbarian, and they are dirty. There is soot, and oil, and coal on them. Also, he is holding a giant hammer in his hand. And he looks mad. You jerk your chin up.

"What you should have done from the start. You are killing the field around your forge with all this..." You vaguely gesture around him torso. Bloody hell, that is a delectable torso. Concentrate, chick, he called you a horse! Well, not directly…

He draws dark thick brows together. "You are Aphrodite, aren't you?" He doesn't seem that happy. Or impressed. Hm, is there something on your face? Usually they swoon and fall to your feet. More often than not, quite literally. No way in Hades he doesn't see how fit you are. It is a new tunic too, hugs you in all right places, and the sandals are scandalously high. Also, when Thea found you, you were planning to take a bath, so your hair is pinned up, a few curls as if unintentionally run away, your glorious neck showing. How is he not whimpering on the ground from lust and longing?

And then he turns around and starts walking back to his grotty forge. What?! You are standing like a pillock. And here you thought you cannot get more narked. "Hey! Do not dare turning your back to me, smith!"

He throws you a dark look over his shoulder and gives you an appraising look over. "I didn't call you here. If you want to talk, you'll have to do it inside." And he continues walking, heavily limping.

You are clenching your fists. "I am not going inside your skanky forge. It is dark and dirty and..." You make a disgusted noise. And he halts, his shoulders visibly tense.

"Unlike you, lass, I have work to do," his voice is low and furious, "I don't have the luxury of just sitting and being pretty. I have weapons and jewelry to make, unlike others my responsibilities are not limited to letting others get randy over me."

That is when the first bird attacks him. You didn't even have to use much of your magic, they were angry with him themselves. A small flock of swallows descend on his head, and he starts flailing his arms, the hammer swishing the air. Is he actually hoping to hit them? What a plonker. They are vicious, pulling his hair, pecking his naked shoulders and back, one of them grazes his cheek with its beak, and you see blood. You are considering conjuring yourself a nice chair to enjoy the show in comfort.

He is roaring and growling. "Call off your darned birds, witch!" There is a scratch on his other cheek now, and you should take pity. Or not.

"I am not commanding them, they do not like you on their own accord, smith."

He yells and suddenly a column of fire shoots out of his hammer. The birds squeal and dash away from him.

"Call them off, or I'll enjoy them for dinner!" He is glaring at you, his eyes burning, fists clenched. And suddenly you start laughing. He is completely and utterly ridiculous. And then you notice one swallow awkwardly thrashing on the ground. Its wing is charred, and you feel tears rolling on your eyes. You dash and pick it up from under his feet.

"You bloody brute!" You yell into his face, and he is staring at you in disbelief. "First you deprive them of their home, and now this!" You push a small body trembling on your open palms to his long nose, and he jerks away.

"You are mental, aren't you? How did I not know you are mental?" He is breathing heavily and is shaking his head. You do not give a bloody fuck about his opinion on you. You gently blow at the bird and then kiss its round head. The wing straightens up, feathers grow back, and it stirs. The swallow chirps and takes to the air to follow its companions.

"They lived in the trees that you chopped off, you prat!" You are standing so close to him now that you finally remember what it was about his eyes that seemed memorable. They are blue, bright and icy, in a stark contrast with the thick lashes, almost black hair and beard. Yuck, beard. And now that you had a good look at him, you are back to your initial opinion. Lithe and blond and smooth are so much better, than this… monstrosity. He is covered in coarse dark hair, the chest, the forearms, even the stomach, beard unkempt, the lower border of it uneven, all his neck covered in stubble. The dark tangled strands fall on his shoulders, two thick braids on the sides of his face.

"Have you had a good look, goddess?" His tone is sarcastic, and you realize you are staring. You make a disgusted grimace.

"Unfortunately, yes." You look him in the eyes, although you really have to drop your head back for that. The top of your head doesn't reach his clavicles. You shudder. You'd rather die than have this in your bed.

He gives you a similar treatment. His eyes roam your body, and he doesn't seem pleased with what he sees. Whatever. His brows are drawn together, and he exhales. You step a bit back. He is radiating heat, and it is uncomfortable. No wonder the barmy future Italians call him Vulcan. It is like sitting in a thermal spring, but not in a pleasant way.

"Talk, goddess," he suddenly sounds tired. "Give me your speech, and let me go back to my forge."

You look at him coldly and proudly. "I came to tell you I do not wish you for my husband. Whatever scheme you had in your barmy mind, I am not going to be a part of it."

"Scheme?" He narrows his eyes.

"Yes," you need to be firm. Bloody Hades, he is intimidating now that he starts taking sharp breaths in and his massive chest starts heaving. "The scheme of returning to Olympus. I am not helping you. I will not be your wife."

"Listen, birdie," he suddenly grabs your upper arm, and you gasp. No one bloody grabs you! Firstly, you are a goddess, no one ever thinks they can! And secondly, that usually leads to rather interesting results everyone is aware of. Yep, apparently he forgot about the girdle.

He sways, his eyes suddenly unfocused, low rumble erupts in his chest, and then he stares at your lips. Oops, really should not have stood so near him. His hand is actually hurting you, there will be purple bruises there, and then he jerks you closer and crushes his lips to yours. You squeak and try to batter him away.

Firstly, he is hot. And not in the sense those barmy Corsicans with their slang use this word, as in deliciously fit. His skin is actually scorching, you press your palms into his chest trying to push him away, and it is like Pythia's tripod. After the temperature, you finally notice other details. Such as that he tastes like black cardamon. And that his lips are very, very soft.

And also, he apparently knows what he is doing. After the initial assault, and yes, it was an assault, it was not consensual and you are not enjoying it… Is that a moan? Bloody fuck, it is a moan, and it is yours. Alright… After the initial… contact, when he just caught your mouth and devoured it, he now switched to nips and licks, and then he catches you bottom lip between his warm ones, and your knees give in. His second hand lies on your lower back, palm splayed, tips of his fingers suddenly brush the tops of your buttocks, and you whimper.

And then knee him in the bollocks. He lets you go and bends in half. Yep, that should negate the effects of the girdle. Let's call it cognitive recalibration. He is a man, their cognition resides exactly where it hurts at the moment.

"Unhand me, smith." It was supposed to sound wicked ace but sort of came out silly, since his hands are no where near you anymore. They are clutching his wedding vegetables. But you bet he doesn't really care. He is taking short breaths in, and you cautiously take a few steps away. Who knows what he'll do when he can move. Well, at least when he can breathe.

"Bitch..." Yep, that is pretty much what you expected.

"Wazzack," you try to shake the dirt off your tunic but the soot is very sticky. There are obvious palmprints on you. You twirl and look at your arse. Oh yeah, there is a nice hand print there. You honestly don't remember when he moved that low. But let's face it, he is good. Also, at some point his hand must have grazed over the girdle under your tunic, and it surely spurred him. You don't remember, you are were busy panting in his mouth. Oh, so embarrassing…

He finally straightens up, his face contorted in pain and rage, and he steps towards you. You jump away. "It was your fault, you grabbed me. How daft do you have to be to forget about the girdle?!"

He freezes, and then it dawns on him. He is a wee bit slow on the rise, isn't he? "Bloody girdle… How could I?... Made it myself..." He is shaking his head and chuckles joylessly.

That catches your attention. He made it? Wow… It is so beautiful! Your favourite jewel. The bracelet Ares gave you is pretty too, but the intricacy of the decorations on the girdle is mind blowing. You discreetly stroke it on your hip through your tunic. You are so used to weight of it on your body, you never take it off. Not that you had a chance to test it on a god before. The result did not disappoint. You mean, it was horrible… Simply horrible… Cursed brute…

He exhales, gathers his thoughts and looks at you. "Well, now that we sufficiently wounded each other, let's talk, goddess."


	3. Chapter 3

"I came to tell you that I will not be your wife, smith." He cocks one eyesbrow. Ooph, that's wicked! The remnants of buzz of his snog make your body react to the gesture. Good thing you use your brain for thinking and not your fanny. And yes, you understand the irony.

"What is it with you, goddesses? You think everyone is dafter than you. I'm not deaf, I heard you the first time. But since you have no say in this matter, you are just wasting my time," he is giving you a derisive look. "Your father offered, I agreed. End of conversation."

"I am a goddess of love," you stomp, "I do have a say in this!"

He barks an obnoxious laugh. Sod his male sense of superiority! "You are not the goddess of matrimony, little one." Oh, you so want to claw his eyes out at the moment! He smirks even more skankier, "I met her. Much better curves, to my taste." This does it. You shortly wonder why they always forget that you, if one thinks of it, one of the gaffers of Pantheon. Do they really think you dass around all day?! The fact that you don't like violence does not mean you are bloody incapable of it!

A glowing ball of your magic forms between your palms, you swirl it once and hurl it into his chest. You are not trying to maim him. Not too much at least. But you are not amused. His heavy body slams into the wall of his forge with a very satisfying thump. You come closer and gently kick his leg. Mostly you are holding back because you don't want any soot on your lovely sandals. They are silver, tiny straps hugging your calves just perfect! Better curves my ass!

He opens his eyes and groans. "I take it back. From this angle you are not that bad." The nerve in him!

You flare your nostrils. "I am love personified, you wanker. There is no one better than me." You change your mind and give him a nice juicy kick into his hip. It is rock hard. At least he winces. "If you think I am just a pretty face, you are cruelly mistaken, smith. I have a job just like any other god, and I am doing it well. Just because you all think it is less important doesn't change the fact that without me you are all fucked." He blinks and seems to be actually listening. You are probably not even talking to him, it's just sort of bottled up through centuries. "Your weapons, Ares's war, matrimony, politics, sciences, that all happens if I do my work well. Because even if you think that the man rules the world, he himself is ruled by his cock and his heart, and both of them," you bend and fist your hand in front of his long nose, "are in my power."

You straighten up and with a swoosh of your copper curls you disappear. You have an aggro to settle with the man upstairs.

Zeus is in one of his sulky moods today. Shite. He is sitting on a balcony, in a shape of an old man, all noble, grey-haired. Sort of kind grandpa wizard type of a sod. Git.

"Zeus Almighty is not accepting any visitors today..." His PA is mincing behind you, but you give her the glare and stride towards him. The nymph scampers. He is so shagging her. Yuck, you hate the vibe you get from such shagging. Manky.

"Aphrodite," he gets up from his bench, all pose and posh friendliness. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You are so gutted already that you decide to skip pussyfooting. "Daddy, I just had a lovely chat with my future better half. It all went slightly higgledy-piggledy, and now I think you will have to find him another wifey. And another spine."

Let's be fair, not a single muscle twitches on his face. He gives you a soft, slightly condescending smile. "True marriage is knowing not how to take offense, but when to forgive it. I am certain Hephaestus understands that you are just under a bit of stress. The excitement of the upcoming wedding and such..."

"There will be no wedding!"

"Aphrodite, my dearest," his decorum wavers, he never was one for patience. Good, you need him miffed. "It is decided, it is time you wed, and Hephaestus will the perfect husband for you."

"Based on what? That he is grotty?!"

"The more he will appreciate your beauty, child. And value you presence in his life." You snort. Are you supposed to believe in this rubbish?

"He said that Hestia, your sister by the way, was fitter than me."

"No one is fitter than you, Aphrodite. And after some time he will see your wonderful mind behind the perfect looks as well."

"Is this what you tell all your doxies?" Ooph, you are so nippy today. Knowing that he was just thinking of a quickie that they had on his throne doesn't improve your mood either. Sometimes you hate your job. He suddenly becomes twice the size, a dark shadow spilling on the balcony.

"Enough! If I say that Hephaestus is your future husband, then your future husband he is!"

It is time for your trump card. "Very well, then next time some cheeky Greek bird catches your eye, do not come to me running! Let's see if Eros with his poxy aim alone can help you out! Make sure he doesn't shoot a chair she is sitting on. We don't want another Pygmalion. Let's see how you manage if your paramour is snogging a settee!"

He is glaring at you. Oh yeah, point Aphrodite! He is drumming his fingers on his staff, you are keeping your regal dignity. He is not the only one here who can play mindgames. "Alright, Aphrodite, be it your way. Let's make a wager." Oh, not good… Careful, Aphrodite, it is obviously a trap.

"Of what sort?"

He walks around the balcony, obviously plotting. "Spend ten days with him, get to know him better, and then if he is still not to your taste, I'll let you choose your husband youself."

"He is not to my taste, I can tell it to you now. Not only I can't stand him, but he is also exiled from Olympus if you have forgotten. He lives on Earth, with mortals, he eats their food, he needs sleep, he bleeds!" Zeus cocks a brow at your surprising knowledge. What?! Did he think you don't understand what Ambrosia deprivation does to a god? "Why do I have to spend ten days to figure out that I'd rather stop partaking Ambrosia myself than to marry him?! "

"Because if you last ten days, you are free of him. If not, if you run before the ten days are over, you will do as I say and marry him that very day. He will be allowed back and the Olympian Dozen will be complete again. Zeus's Twelve," he giggles like an imbecile. Seriously? And this bloke is the father of gods and men... "And for those ten days you will leave your girdle here."

"What?!" No way, you are not taking it off!

"Oh, don't be vain, Aphrodite. You are still the fairest of them all. You will just have a wee bit less power over him. Makes sense if we want to test your determination. We don't want him to eat from your hands for a chance to kiss the hem of your tunic, do we?"

A shudder of disgust runs through you. The magic of his snogging has worn off, and also he said Hestia was cuter than you, so now the thought of him touching you makes you wince. You had to actually change. The soot on your tunic from his grabby hands wouldn't come off. You should take it to Hestia, she should be able to come up with something. Better curves or not, she is better at cleaning and scrubbing, that's for sure… Moronic smith.

You consider your options. Ten days, with that brute, on Earth, you won't need food and sleep obviously, but you will have to stay in his manky forge. You shortly wonder where he sleeps. And then berate yourself, it doesn't matter. You can always conjure yourself a nice tent, with a bath, and a fountain, and a butterfly garden...

"And you will have to stay in his household obviously, otherwise how is that just not a vacation for you? All play and no work make Aphrodite a spoilt girl." Zeus's voice is singsong, and you shortly consider to make his pecker fall off. Not forever, but maybe just for a couple days. Or ten. But you have to be smarter. You need to play it right and get out of this aggro.

"Alright. And after I spend ten days in his household, and at the dawn of the eleventh day I leave his forge, I can choose myself a husband."

"Yes, we will organize a feast in the evening, and at the feast you will announce who is the lucky sod." There is way too much sarcasm in his tone. Tosser.

"A god, a mortal, a centaur, a phaun, anybody?" You need to make sure there are no loopholes in this wager.

"Any creature of your choice, as long as it is corporeal and capable of producing an offspring with you." Oh this… You bite into your bottom lip. You will think about it later. Right now you need to make sure those are not the sprogs of the lame smith we are talking about here.

"I will consider this wager and will come back with my answer after my evening meal." He nods and dismisses you. You need to discuss it with Hermes. He will help you make sure you are not missing any porkies here. You can promise him to help with Daphne a bit. Just like you said to the smith, you have enough power. You just have to be smart.

The bet is made, and you spend the night tossing and turning in your bed. You do not require sleep, but you decide to have some rest before your day one with the brute. This is the moniker he got in your head. Brute… Barbarian... Moron… Nutter… Grotty, grotty wanker…

You push your hand under your cheek and close your eyes. You do not doubt you can last ten days, but then what? Your choices are slightly slim here. Apollo, who cares about his hair more than you do, and you do love your hair… Ares, oh no, yuck… All muscles and weapons, and then again, something tells you it is all mouth and no trousers, no pun intended…

You try to fight it but your mind jumps to the smith's trousers… Because when he was pressing you into him, you got quite closely familiar with the content of the said trousers, and my oh my… Thea was right, you hate when Thea is right, the build matters. But also he does know what to do with the gifts he had been bestowed with. You angrily exhale and turn on the other side.

The problem is that you of all people know how shag and love are two different things. And the problem is you have never had either. You are the giver of love and lust, and for the purposes of equality you were not supposed to know either. You are love personified, and once your magic becomes embodied for you in someone else, you obviously will be more reluctant to share yourself with others so easily. And you really don't want this. You need to find a husband who will be good in a sack, but you need to protect your heart. So you will be cold and calculative about it. You will compare physique, you will ask Thea, she has slept with most of them, you need one with good stamina. You are after all the goddess of sensuality, you are really looking forward to hands on approach. Wait, no, not hands on, that you have had more than enough, your wrist is seriously tired sometimes… And the size. The size matters. That eliminates Hades from the race. And again, yuck, no. Pale, melancholic, yuck… You need a man who can share your love for poetry, for music, for sunshine and seaside. You do miss sea these days, you miss your dolphins. When your ten day imprisonment is done, you will go to Cyprus and spend a whole month there. White sand, warm water, yum...


	4. Chapter 4

The dawn of Day One meets you and Hermes in the field in front of the forge. You take a deep breath and knock at the door. Hermes steps in the shade of the cider trees that you planted the day before. You don't blame him, he had some barney with the smith regarding the helmet some time ago. Hermes, an insecure ponce as he is, said it was girly. Apparently Hephaestus offered to confirm Hermes's masculinity in some non-conformist way. The door opens with a jerk, and you are staring at a young blond man. He gives you a sunny smile and bows in a low respectful greeting. "Fillipo, I am Master Hephaestus's apprentice."

"Who is it?" The smith's booming voice from inside makes you lift your chin. And then another young man, dark haired this time, looks over the blonde's shoulder. His eyes widen.

"Killilos, my brother," the blond introduces.

The smith shows up from the dark inside of the house and freezes behind the young blokes. Zeus Almighty, is he dozy? He is supposed to invite you in.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is cheesed off, and you hear Hermes chuckle in the shade. You bet you are the only who can. "Are you bricking it there in the bushes, nosey parker?" Hephaestus turns his head and looks at what should seem like an empty spot for him. The boys snort, and Hermes steps out of his hiding.

"Good to see you too, wobbler." Hermes smirks scornfully, and you see the smith's jaws clench under the beard. You catch the blue eyes of the blond boy and smile to him. Unlike his master he is far from unaffected. His look gets dazzled, and he smiles like an imbecile. Good, one down, one to go. The dark haired one doesn't need any encouragement at all, he looks bladdered from your presence alone.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving two gods in my house?"

"We are not in yet," your voice is unpleasant, "We still haven't been welcomed." The smith steps away and invites you with a gesture of his hand. In the process he needs to push the boys inside, since they are frozen in space like twits. In the name of all deities, can he look any more stroppy?

You enter a small room, and under his heavy stare the boys disappear somewhere at the back. There is a crude table and one chair, a cupboard, and a simple stove. Does he actually live here? Yes, he was stripped of some of his immortality, but he still has his powers, you saw them yesterday, why not make himself more comfortable? He sits on a chair and stretches his limp leg. He takes pretty much all available space in the room. Tosser. Not that you would actually sit on this but you are still a lady…

"Zeus Almighty has been displeased by the beginning of your association with Aphrodite," Hermes starts in his toff nasal voice, and you roll your eyes. The gesture doesn't stay unnoticed by the smith, who smirks darkly. "So he decided that the two of you need some extra time together. She'll be staying in your house for the next ten days." The smith's jaw literally drops.

"What in the name of…?" His voice is raspy.

Among other conditions you successfully bargained, you insisted on not informing Hephaestus of the wager. Had he known of the bet, the smith would try to make your life absolutely miserable to make you run and thusly to tie the knot. In your mind, right on your throat. Zeus agreed, but you had to accept two other unpleasant conditions in return. So for now the lame one should just think you two are getting chummy. Maybe he would just leave you alone for ten days.

"She is staying in your house for ten days and ten nights. You are to provide her with a room and cause her minimum discomfort." The last part came personally from Hermes, and you are grateful. You guess he still haven't gotten over the helmet thing.

"No way in Hades I'm letting a spoilt, whiny goddess in my house!"

"You were planning to marry me just yesterday! How do you imagine it'll be like when we are hitched?!" He turns his burning blue eyes to you, disdain splashing in them. Wanker. Oh you are so livid right now!

"Once I get my palace on Olympus back, I won't have to see you for months. There are enough rooms in it to almost forget one even has a wife."

Patience, Aphrodite, it will all end in ten days. You take a deep breath in and pull your sunniest smile on your face. Men are easy to manipulate, you just need to know the buttons. Have you mentioned you are the goddess of allure and charm? You step closer, enough for him to appreciate you in all your glory, to catch your delicate fragrance and see your freckles, but not enough for you to impose on his bloody personal space. Dominant men do not like it. On average day they can stuff their opinion where the sun don't shine. But today is not the day to be nippy.

"Master smith, I am sure we can reach some sort of agreement," your tone is soft and compliant, and he looks at you with suspicion. He won't be hard to play, he is a prat and a toe-rag. "I will not bother you in any way. Just give me some room in the house and forget I'm here for ten days."

He is still staring at you. He is so tetchy. You are increasingly worried about those two other conditions Zeus imposed on you. Bugger, bugger, bugger, common, twonk, just nod, and Hermes can go. You will hide in some dusty, grotty, manky, oh my, how are you going to survive this, corner, close your eyes and try to convince yourself you are home.

"And what happens after the ten days?"

"And after ten days there is feast." This is your chance. Make your move, Aphrodite. "And when we are married, you go back to Olympus with me and partake Ambrosia." And you are not even lying. Not much. There is a 50% chance you are truthful. He is staring at you, not a muscle twitches, but you can see his pupils dilate. You bet if you step closer you will hear his heart beating frantically. Common, bite the bait, you arrogant twonk… It is all you ever wanted, just say yes...

He nods. "She can stay. A long as she is not in the way." You clearly imagine how you club him to the head with his own hammer yelling that she is in the room, you pig! But that would be an insult to pigs, lovely noble animals as they are.

Hermes looks at you, and for a second his smug exterior wavers. He is pitying you. Oh, humiliation! You know where his apprehension comes from. The smith is a scroter, he was exiled, he is almost mortal. A filth. What surprises you is that at the moment you don't feel disgusted by the man in the chair. Maybe because you are tired of gods with their posh affairs and uptight attitude. They do not like you much on Olympus. Except Thea, Thea likes you. And Temmy. Or maybe because in all this aggro the smith is as much Zeus's toy as you are.

You nod to Hermes, and with the last look towards the smith he disappears. You are looking at the floor, and suddenly you feel his presence very close. How did he get up without you noticing? You haven't heard a single squeak of a chair or shuffle of his limp foot. His chest is in front of your eyes, and you jerk your face up. His eyes are cold and attentive. He is also not touching you, while you can see from the corner of your eye how the fingers of his right hand twitch. Right, he doesn't know about the girdle. Let's keep it this way so far.

"Where is the trap, witch?" His voice is hollow and menacing, and you blink. Right, innocent victim mode. Your eyes open wide, helplessness and grace splashing in them. You shortly wonder if he is only a partial dimwit or after all a complete idiot? Well, better safe than sorry… Let's assume there is a wee bit of something in his noggin. You lower your head and sniff.

"There were conditions… I agreed on them… I had no choice…" Should you add some tears, or he is already feeling very sorry for you? Wow, that was easy peasy! His eyes soften, he is sympathetic. Jolly good… "I can't leave your house, and I have to share your meals. Since I don't eat, I suppose I will just have to sit through them… It is humiliating..." You add some drama. Wriggle your hands. Let him appreciate the delicate fingers. Men are bloody predictable. His hands jerk. Oh you poor sodding moron… "And he took my girdle..." Cue wet eyes, lashes fluttering. "I love the girdle, it is so pretty…" He takes your hands into his and squeezes them gently. Check mate.

"Do I look like an imbecile to you, goddess?" Your eyes fly to his, and you see he is smiling. It is not a nice smile. His lips twisted sardonically, he throws your hands away in disgust. "There isn't a single honest bone in your body, witch. Just like in all of gods. You think you are that clever? All pouty lips and teary eyes! I know what you are like, you are a viper!" He spits it out and makes a few heavy steps across the room. He jerks some door open and points into the darkness behind it. "That's the attic. Since you don't sleep or eat I at least don't have to sacrifice my rooms for you. Do whatever you want there, just nothing beyond that room."

You are frozen in the middle of the room. Bugger, bugger, bugger… "I haven't lied about the meals." Yep, and there is this one other thing…

"I'll call you when you can get down. And now scram!" He is clenching his jaws, and you have no other choice but to walk by him and to the stairs. It is dark and smells nasty. Dust and mold. Alright, you can do it. It's been centuries since you had to be in a place this grotty… You take a deep breath and make the first few steps up. And then he slams the door behind you.

"Oh you bleeding wanker, I can't see a thing!" You hear his low dark chuckle behind it.

"Aren't you a goddess?"

Oh wait, he is right. What's wrong with you?! The place is so disgustingly human that you forget yourself. You open your palm and a ball of light blooms on it. Right, it is just an old staircase, nothing to be afraid of… What would you be afraid of? You are a goddess for fuck sake! Bugs won't bite you, you can't die, if you get dirty, you can always conjure a new toga, you are doing jolly fine… A piece of spiderweb touches your face, and you squeal.

"Are you alright there, lassy?" Can he sound any more chuffed?

"Oh yes, I am wicked! I got overwhelmed by the glorious interior design of your attic!" You push the door into the room and are presented with empty and dusty space. It is taller on one side, the room takes only half the space under the roof, and it is so endlessly non-divine that you freeze in stupour again. And then you exhale sharply and get to work.

Two hours later you are lying on a round comfortable bed, surrounded by shelves with parchments and amphoras, pots with plants and beautiful lamps. And they say goddesses can't do anything themselves! The room is full of light, you added a window to the roof, smells nice, you are burning incenses, and you even managed to cram a small bathtub in a corner. Altogether, you are very homey here! Ha!

You spend the day eating grapes and figs and reading the latest poem of Sapho. It is one of her friskier kind, and you are enjoying it immensely. The chick knows her stuff! No wonder they love her on Lesbos! Oh la la! A loud bang into your floor from underneath is definitely made by a handle of some tool, probably a broom. You guess it means dinner is served. Yuck, mortal food. And then you feel suddenly nauseated. You are ready to bet a thousand drachmas he is not a vegetarian. Bugger...


	5. Chapter 5

Technically, a goddess can't puke, but you are getting pretty close to it. It is the bloody food. The meat, big wet pieces, in a poxy clay bowl, with some root vegetables, and he has a mug of something that makes you wrinkle your nose and your head swim. He is eating slowly, not looking at you, while you are perched on a stool that he brought for you from somewhere. At least he has a shirt on. It's the same manky monstrosity from the day before.

"You are pale, goddess." Your eyes fly open. He looks very smug. Wanker. He takes a swig from his mug and licks his lips. Yep, puking, tee time three seconds. You probably shouldn't talk. "Can I offer you something? Some stew maybe?"

You are glaring at him, trying not to look at his dinner. It's not the food itself, though that is grotty enough, it is the thought that he is eating it. He is a god after all. Since the ichor was replaced in his veins with blood, he just give out this vibe, he feels... dirty. Too hot, too physical, too present. Not that he supposedly was a fine chap before his fall. According to rumours, Hera threw him out of Olympus for being ugly. Rumours also state that he was deformed because she attempted to have him without a man, to spike Zeus for having Thea on his own. You wince at the thought. What kind of mother does that? First you choose to have him and then throw him aside like a broken toy because he is not up to your tosh standards. Bitch.

You give him a more careful look over. He is not that bad, Hera was wrong. Too hairy, heavy brows, something dark and violent about him, but… He has a noble profile, impressive nose, an absolutely lovely jawline. And the lips… You suddenly feel a bit hotter, which is a complete rubbish because you don't feel hot or cold in general.

He catches you stare. "Perhaps we should blindfold you, goddess. So you don't have to endure the torture of seeing me." Would you look at that! Is the wanker self-conscious?

"Then we would need to plug my nose as well." His whole body jerks, and you feel almost sorry for him. Almost. He said Hestia was fitter than you.

He slams his palm to the table. "I didn't invite you to my house, witch. I don't need you here. So just..." He obviously wants to say "shut your gob" but the leftovers of manners do not allow him. And you are a proper goddess after all, one of the Twelve. Well, Eleven at the moment.

You throw one leg over another. The tunic slides down showing your gorgeous thigh. You know it is gorgeous, and you know he can see it. The ladies on Lesbos would call it habitual body monitoring. In this disgusting testosterone dominated world chicks perceive themselves as objects, so we mentally check what we look like from outside, where our hair is, and who is looking. An average woman engages in it every 30 seconds. But you are not an average woman. You are the goddess of sex, and the only reason you care if he sees is to make him uncomfortable. And it works jolly well. He shifts on his chair and pointedly goes back to his food. If only he could control the feverish blush above his beard on his cheekbones. Poor ducky.

"If you hate gods so much, which is mental considering you are… were one of us, why do you want to go back to Olympus? Why not build a nice comfy life for yourself here." He is chewing blatantly ignoring your question. "Forge your weapons, make your jewelry, you have apprentices, may be you can take a mortal wife..." His spoon jerks in his hand. Interesting… "Have a handful of nice chubby rugrats..." And bingo. His face contorts in a pained grimace.

He throws the spoon into his bowl and lifts burning livid eyes at you. "What do you want from me, goddess? You don't give a rat's arse about my life! You don't want me for a husband, you made it clear, why the curiosity?"

"Like you said yourself, smith, I do not have much of a say in this aggro, I might as well get to know my future husband better." But he is right. Why are you asking? In ten days you will leave this place and will never see him again. Hopefully.

"You won't have to know me well. We will wed, you will lie with me, and then you are good to go. You won't have to see me for another couple centuries." He awkwardly gets up and throws his bowl in a sink by the wall.

Your goddess ESP is frantically beeping. Alarm, alarm, sensitive topic! So… Marriage and shagging his wife makes our Brute squirm? Hm… And children… Interesting...

You get up and stand near him. He is angrily washing his bowl. That distracts you from your previous musings for a mo. Is that how it is done? That is so barmy… There is a brush on a long handle, some sort of soap, probably from soap nuts, and he is scrubbing the bowl dunking it in the water from time to time. You just can't help it, you poke the suds with your index finger. They are so funny. And then you poke again and giggle.

He has stopped his work a few second ago and is just staring at you. Ah, right, the question of him having kittens about "lying" with his wife… What, did he suddenly decide to be posh about it? The next thing he'll say will be something about "claiming your body." Dunce. You step closer, put your palms on his chest, and his pupils dilate. And before he can do anything, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his in the lightest of kisses. You might have forgotten to mention it, but that was the second of Zeus's conditions. One kiss a day. On the lips. Your eyes close, he smells like black cardamom, and…

He pushes you away so hard that you make a few clumsy steps back and bump your back into his table. You hiss. It hurts. And it is humiliating. And it bloody hurts. What a brute! Fucking barbarian! You twirl trying to see if there is a bruise, and you hear the entrance door bang. Did you hurt his delicate feelings, poor lambkin? Sod it, who cares. You rub your back and head to your attic.

You make it to the second step when he grabs your upper arm and jerks you back into the room. How the fuck does he do that? Does he apparate between the rooms? He spins you, and his face is way too close to yours for your comfort. He is snarling, another hand clenched in a fist, "What the fuck is wrong with you, witch?! Are you that bored?! Leave me alone! And the boys too! Don't think I haven't seen you making your bloody eyes at them! Do not dare! If you as much as touch them, I'll make your life so miserable you will pray Zeus to marry you out to Hades!" And then he drags you to the stairs and shoves you inside. The door closes behind you with a bang, and you are standing in complete darkness again. Yep, a kiss a day might become a problem…

By the time the sun rises on your second day you are bored out of your bloody mind. How do people do it, take vacations? You are so used to being busy all the time. So and so needs a good bonk, so and so shagged and it needs to be straightened up, he fancies her, she fancies his sister… Plenty of stuff to do. Marriages to mend, marriages to ruin, sod off, Hestia, star cross lovers to give a nice cozy spot for having it off… You climb out of your bed and conjure a demure tunic. What? It covers the knees. It is not what mortals wear obviously, but none of them have perfect calves such as these… You pin up your hair and conjure a few thin bands to hold your curls. To be precise you transport them from your place on Olympus, they are your favourite. Elegant, decorated with your beloved pearls, you are so fit in them! You'd shag yourself! What else do you have left, you don't have a husband yet… Yuck.

You cautiously go down the stairs. Hopefully, he is busy somewhere in his manky forge. You will just peek around… You go through the room you are already familiar with and push the right door out of the two on the West wall. Big mistake. That's his bedroom.

A tiny room, a narrow bed, how does he even fit? He is out cold, his lower half covered with a sheet, quite obviously in the buff. He is sleeping on his back, one massive arm behind his head. He is less grotty when he is not talking, that's for sure. And looks younger without this snarl on his bloody face. You tilt your head. Why doesn't he fix the silver above his forehead and on his temples? Although there is a certain charm in it...You start backing off but then an ingenious thought comes to your mind.

You tiptoe to him and quickly bend down. Just a second of torture, and you will be done for the day. You press your lips to his, this time you are not going to close your eyes, and you are holding your breath. His blue eyes fly open, and you start moving away.

And then your stupid goddess of love mode turns on. You imagine him placing his heavy hand on the back of your head and pulling you to his greedy mouth again. Another hand goes around your neck, palm scorching and assertive, and then he pulls you down, and on him, stretches you on top of his searing, strong, masculine body, his massive cock pressing to…

You realize you are standing, bent halfway down, your face an inch away from his, and he is studying you. His eyes are very, very sarcastic. Bollocks. You straighten up and do a quick internal regrouping. You are a bloody goddess. Unlike some of the berks in the room, you can actually control your blush. Right now you look divinely relaxed.

"Morning," you give him a blissful smile. "Thought I'd get down myself for your breakfast." He is still surveying your face. What is he trying to see? Overwhelming lust and embarrassment? Ha!

"Do you want some water lily extract, goddess? You know, to bridle your libido." You hike up your brows. "I get it you are stuck here for ten days, must be hard without your usual grope and romp." Is he hinting you are a slag?! Wait, he is not hinting, he is plainly saying it. Someone hasn't lived on Olympus for quite a while, has he? So he is not aware how it works for goddesses… To think of it, if he is basing his perception of your kind on his mommy dearest…

"I am quite alright, thank you," somehow today you are going for being nauseatingly nice with him. Just to throw his off the kilter. Perhaps you feel so much better because you don't have to worry about that kiss anymore. Till tomorrow at least, bugger… "Well, I'll let you get ready..." You wave around his stretched body. And then he sits up throwing the sheet off him. Yep. In the buff.

Was he actually trying to shock the goddess of sex with the view of his knob? Though, well done, Hera, there is nothing knob-like in this… schlong. You regularly have to deal with plenty of the organs, and this one is lovely…

And then you feel the corners of your mouth droop. It is lovely, but it is also floppy. Wait, where is the morning biggie? Because this biggie would be really biggie. And you are bored. You know you can't touch, but you really, really like to watch.

And then your eyes fall on the leg. And widen. Damn you, Aphrodite, can't you keep your face under control? Scars are covering it from the hipbone to the ankle. No wonder he doesn't wear togas. These are terrifying… The flesh mangled, disfigured, and healed without proper treatment. No one knows the details, but some of the rumours… Shudder runs through you, and he jerks the sheet to cover the leg. You meet his eyes, and they are almost black from rage.

You step back, and he grabs a sandal from the floor and hurls it in your direction. "Get out!" You squeak and apparate in the next room. And on the lap of the blond one. Well hello there! Fillipo was it?


	6. Chapter 6

The blond boy cums with a very surprised facial expression. He makes a sad mewling sound and sags in the chair, his arms hanging along the chair legs. Well, at least he didn't die. That happened too. Very awkward story, fell on a bloke, he came, and it was a wee bit overwhelming. He came and went, so to say. Guh, horrible pun. Had to go to Hades and ask for the poor sod's soul back. The dark haired one is sitting with his spoon frozen midair and his mouth open. You gracefully jump off the blonde's lap and inspect your toga on your bum. Yuck. You quickly conjure a new one, this one has longer skirt at the back. Nice mint green. Wicked cut on your tits too, low, showing the hollow between them. You ponder it and change the hair do. You keep the bands though, love the pearls! The dark haired one is still not moving, while his brother is panting in the chair.

The door opens from an obvious kick from the other side, and the smith appears on the threshold, hurriedly pulling on a shirt. Bloody fuck, it is still the same shirt! Does he have any other clothes? Manky, manky... He freezes as well, his eyes darting between the boys. Oops…

"Not my fault!" You sound a bit peeved. Honestly, the boy should be honoured and grateful. He will never have a better O in his life! Judging by the happy smile spreading on his cute clock, he is appreciating it.

"What have you done, witch?!" The smith roars and steps closer. You wince away. Bloody hell, you need to fix it and quick. You can't let him throw you out! No way…

"Uncle, it wasn't her fault! She just landed on him!" The other boy, was it Killilos, jumps up on his feet, still clenching a spoon in his hand. He makes an energetic gesture towards the smith, and whatever he was eating flies across the room and lands on the Brute's face and hair. The silence falls in the room.

The blond one starts laughing first. Well, he is fucking giddy, his cock still probably jumping under his toga. You snort next. Honestly, the weird yellowish goo dripping from the smith's hair is the most hilarious thing you have seen recently. And then the dark one catches up.

You are cracking up, bent in half. "Oh in the name of all deities!.. The fucking cock radar..." Thea's words, not yours. She claims all goddesses have it. You doubt that. You are after all in charge of shagging here. The rest are probably just slags. But you do tend to cause a lot of boffing around you in all possible forms. Duh, goddess of love here.

The smith wipes his face with his spade-like hand and stares at the goo. And then suddenly he guffaws. Cor blimey, it is like a different bloke! The lashes hide the blue irises, little wrinkles run from the corners of his eyes, and the teeth! How did you not notice it before! White, even… And of course the lips… He is also laughing with his whole body, men rarely do! His shoulders are shaking, and the low rumble of laughter in his chest is very, very dishy! Purr… What?! Wait…

He wipes his hand on his trousers and gives out a couple more warm chuckles. The blond one is pulling some rug from the table, covering up his crotch. The ladgeful part of the experience is reaching his happy fuzzy brain, and you see furious blush rising over his ginger beard. By the way, yum! You are suddenly in a good mood. You wave your hand and whatever was sticky and uncomfortable under his toga is gone. He sits up and gives you a grateful, puppy-eyed look.

"Do you also need help to clean up, smith?" You are feeling generous.

"Gods forbid, no," he is still chuckling. "Not after where your magic has been." The joke is good humoured though, and you snort. The boys suddenly realize that are sitting in the presence of a goddess and jump up on their feet. They both hurriedly push their chairs towards you, and you gracefully accept the one from under Killilos. Obviously. They grab their bowls and disappear through the second door that you haven't explored yet. The smith inspects the other chair and then sits down and pulls his bowl towards him.

"Why?" Your voice is still ringing with laughter, and he lifts his eyes at you. They are still smiling, and bloody fuck… Maybe… No. Shut your gob, libido.

"Why what, goddess?" You make a scornful sound. It is still better than Phro, but can he cut it off already?

"I have a name, you know."

"I am aware," he stuffs a spoon of the goo in his mouth and thoughtfully chews. What a wally. Wait, that sounded way too chummy in your head. Oh, whatever.

"So why do you do it? This," you gesture around the room, and he lifts the brow. No way in Hades he is unaware of the power of the brow. Good thing you are completely unaffected. Haha. "This life. This food. The dirt and the same sodding shirt every day." He smirks with the spoon between his lips. Oooph, he is bleeding infuriating!

"Is that the only thing that bothers you, goddess? That I am not swish?"

"Well, you honestly could have changed the shirt… You know, wash your hair and… I don't know, cut it too probably..." You are giving his mane an appraising look. With a certain amount of balms it might even look decent. The colour hasn't been in vogue for centuries now, but after Trojan war there is a wee bit more interest in dark haired men. The wanker Paris had those lush ebony curls, yum… Pity about Helen and stuff. You really didn't mean any harm. Awkward…

"And what would I do in a new shirt, goddess? Work in a forge?" He pushes the bowl away from him and leans back in his chair. You smile to him, he smiles back, and then with your goddess of flirting ESP you catch how he realises it and scolds himself internally. His face darkens, and he sneers, "Not all of us have a job that consists of looking tidy and making sure gods get their share of knobbing, goddess." What the fuck?! Is that what he thinks you do? You jump on your feet and press your fists in your hips. It is probably not too intimidating, you are pretty much as tall as him when he is sitting. Sod it! You are so tired of his misogynous shite! And to think of it, you started to sort of… Oh, you feel so stupid!

"Listen to me, you arsehole!" You shake a finger in front of his nose. "My job is to help people find each other and to reach the peaks of pleasure together that you will never be able to even imagine with your stodgy narrow mind! To say nothing of your floppy pecker!" That might have been low, but you are just so shagged! "I give life to the fire in hearts and bodies! I am not a pimp or a half-arsed matchmaker! I am love itself!" You turn and stride to your attic. You make sure the door behind you bangs exceptionally loudly.

You are fuming in your room, sitting in the middle of your round bed legs crossed. What is his bloody problem?! You puff air out and kick a pillow. And then another. That is just dog's bollocks. Then again, why are you even surprised?.. They all treat you this way. Zeus, his bitch of a wife, Ares, Apollo, Hermes… Thea cares for you, but again, she out of all people knows the value of a great shag. Temmy is just a big softie, despite her weird relationships with her forest. No judgement. Everybody has their kink. All gods' children. Sort of. You were born out of a cut-off cock, so you are the last to place labels.

You stretch on the bed and press your cheek to the cold sheet. It's not like you are asking for too much. A bit of music, a bit of dancing, flowers and birds around, preferably on the beach, with your dolphins playing at the background, and just someone to have fun with… You know, nothing heavy, just a bit of copping off… You just want some occasional shag with some not so present beau and most importantly to be left to your own devices. Thea often calls you workaholic. You are. You have a rewarding job. Even if you might be the only one who appreciates it. A vengeful thought comes to your mind. Let's see how they sing after these ten days. Hestia especially. Hearth my ass! How is she going to sustain any fire in a marriage without your sort of "fire," all puns intended? And the majestic Hera? How is her Great Goddess attitude doing these days when her fanny isn't getting any sugar? Goddess or not, she asks for your help quite often. Even borrowed your girdle couple times. You giggle and think back on the humiliation on her face when she would come with the request. Like you ever needed the girdle! They just fall to your feet, you don't even have to look at their direction! And that brings your thoughts back to your job, and you groan. You will have to deal with so much mess after these ten days.

You walk up to the window and push it open. And then an idea comes. You gently whistle, and after a jiffy a dove appears. You whisper in its ear, and it leaves. You go back to the room and finish your parchment. The ending of Sapho's poem is disappointing. The protagonist ended up with her boring husband, and there was no threesome. Dull...

A gentle pecking in the window stirs you out of your daydreaming. There are three doves on the sill, each carrying a small roll of parchment. Thea, Temmy, and surprisingly Ares. Girls are just being their usual selves. Thea asks how you're liking the smith's todger and suggests a reverse cowgirl. You throw her letter in the firepit. Firstly, the last thing you need is the said smith to find it. That of course if he even can read. And secondly, whom is she teaching? You invented the reverse cowgirl. Temmy is hardly coherent as usual. She is rattling about her boars and deer again, and then she says, "Do not be afraid, Cypris. You are not alone. If you ever need aid, I will come." First of all, you hate this nickname, secondly, is she narked? You don't need anyone's help!

Ares though... You kinda hoped for some sappy declarations of love and suicide threats now that they are giving you to the bloody cripple, you know, just to cheer you up in this botched up dump, but he is just totally nonchalantly asking to help his mate. And even attached the file. Pillock. But you are so bored... Alright, what do we have here? OK, some bloke name Cycnus... Home address: Pagasae, Thessaly. Not bad, posh neighbourhood. Chicks don't dig him... Well, let's see the pic... Yep, that's a minger alright... Well, you are a highly trained professional... Let's see his personal history... Oh no. You knew it. Definitely Ares's bastard. No judgement, but look at this psychological profile. Yuck. That's a murderous fuck if you have ever seen one. You push the parchment away. No way in Hades you are helping him. Grotty...

You really feel like you need a bath after that. You wave your hand, and in a mo you sink in a fragrant foamy goodness. Disgusting... You are the one who helped Hippomenes get Atalanta, that was such a wicked story!.. Just thinking about it makes you tingle all over. And now you are reduced to this… You close your eyes and feel your muscles relax. Plato, ace of a bloke by the way, once said, "Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. And the reason is that human nature was originally one, and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love." And that is when your job is done well. And it's not about a jolly good shag, whatever they say about you, although it is a part of it… Two people, two halves of a long forgotten creature with four legs and four arms, become one… They feel complete, their hearts finally united… You are dangling your foot in the foam, humming, _"Free your mind of doubt and danger/ Be for real, don't be a stranger/ We can achieve it, we can achieve it/ Come a little bit closer/ Baby, get it on, get it on/ 'Cause tonight is the night when two become one…" _when your door gets kicked in, and you are presented with the view of an enraged god of fire and smithery. Bollocks, now what?..

**A/N: Answering an anon's question I received: yes, Temmy is Artemis, and who she is in this crossover can be deduced by the quote from her letter :)**

**A/N#2: Dearest ****Lady Stardust on Mars****, thank you so much for pointing out the mistake! I went back and fixed it. As for the typos all I can say is sorry :) Damn creepy crawlers! You just can't catch them all! I just found two in my PEER REVIEWED, PUBLISHED article! Can you imagine how many people looked through that text?! And hello! Buggers! **

**A/N#3: Thank you all my old (not age wise obviously:) and new readers and reviewers! Love you all! Just an outburst of affection and gratitude! Bear with me! :) It's just so much fun to write and see your reaction to my mad ramblings! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

"What is this cack, goddess?" He is roaring, and you stare at him. Oh, it is indeed cack. Bird's shite to be precise. On his head. "What is a dozen of bloody doves doing on my roof, witch? They shat all over my window!" He is fuming, and you feel so much better.

"I don't see much change in your appearance, smith," you gesture in the direction of his mane, "There was your breakfast there already, can't really get that much worse." Nine days, nine days, Aphrodite, you have to just wait nine days, and you are free of him. Bugger, can you imagine having this man in your bed?! Speaking of fate worse than death. And you are immortal! Meaning no "till death do us" part. Dog's bollocks… Nine days, Aphrodite, you can do it.

"What are those blinking birds doing here?"

"That's my mail. I'm stuck here, I need to keep in touch." You hear soft cooing and see two doves cuddling on the sill. Oh, my cuties. So gentle, so affectionate… One of them flies in, makes a circle under the ceiling and gently chirping poops on his head again. Atta girl! He growls and suddenly strides to you. He shoves the hand into your water, grabs your upper arm and pulls you out of water.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?!" You are squealing and kicking. He picks you across your body and throws you on the bed.

"I am washing off the shite from your bloody pests!" He jerks off his shirt and pushes his trousers down. The sandals fly to the floor. He sits in your bathtub and then sinks all the way down, his head disappearing in your foam. What an arsehole! Those are your favourite suds, rose water and Epsom salts! He resurfaces with a loud splashing, spitting out water, his hands raking through his hair. And then he stretches and puts his arms on the sides of the tub. His eyes are closed.

"I would throw something on, goddess. You'll catch cold." What a load of shite! You are not cold, you are a goddess, but you feel rather sticky. The suds are drying on your skin. You sit up on the bed and stubbornly cross your arms on your chest. You are not covering your breasts by the way, they are fucking glorious! He opens one eye and looks at you. You consider conjuring the water to disappear. He is partially mortal now, maybe he'll get blinking pneumonia.

"It might take long, goddess. I haven't had a bath for a while," you are going to puke, "Might take lots of soap to get all the grime off. Feel free to go for a walk… Oh, wait," he smirks darkly, "Daddy prohibited you from wandering off. Well, you can cook dinner while I'm washing off. Just put something on. Don't want my apprentices to get distracted from work." He closes his eyes and bends the healthy leg.

Right… That's it. Your patience is no more. Kaputt. You gracefully get up, wave your fingers and soap disappears from your skin. While nothing new appears on it. Your hair scatters on your shoulders, down your back, a few silky strands falling on your breasts. Oh, you just wait, wanker… A golden choker appears on your neck, a long chain going between your breasts to your navel, with a tear shaped pink pearl dangling on its end. You walk towards him, and you are not the goddess of shag if he is not peeking from his lowered lids. You come to the edge of the bath and slowly kneel. Your hand lies on his knee above the water, and he opens his eyes. You smile and look at him from under your lashes.

"Perhaps you are right, smith… I should be of some use while I am here. I might not be as proficient in housekeeping as Hestia, but I am surely capable of making a simple dinner." Your hand moves on his skin in a circular movement, and you sigh. Your tits are small and perky, and the nipples pebble. Three, two, one… No one's will is that strong. Boom. His eyes fall on your tits and immediately fly up back to your face. His is defensive, you are smiling blissfully. You get up, and a pearly white tunic appears on you. It is demure, down to the floor, but the choker stays, and the chain goes down disappearing in the low cut, and you are ready to bet your favourite handheld mirror so do his thoughts. You stretch your hand towards him, and a basket of soaps and essences appears in it. You smile again and place it near his hand on the edge of the tub. "Help yourself, please."

You apparate into the kitchen and start working. Your rage is white and cold, and you will show him bloody wifely duties! The kitchen is sparkling, but you do not change anything, just clean up, plates and mugs organized, the table scrubbed, by magic obviously, a bouquet of flowers in an amphora on the window sill, you slightly beautify his terracotta plates and bowls, no gold, no silver though, everything is the same, just slightly better, a wee bit of fucking feminine touch. You are so livid that your hands are shaking. Veal stew, wine from Thasos, fruit and vegetables, everything is arranged, and the table is decorated with flowers. You physically, you are not taking a piss, seriously, you used your hands, move the stool he brought for you to the wall, where a wife is to sit while a man dines, and you sit fucking demurely, your hands folded on your lap.

He opens the door and comes in. He is clean and wet. Oh, you hate him so much right now! You are going to bugger him up so jolly well he will wish Thanatos would knock him up! His jaws are clenched, and there is some strange emotion splashing in his eyes.

"Listen, I..." And then he sees the table, the kitchen, and he is looking at you in confusion. You rise and pick up the wine amphora. You pour wine in his goblet and gesture, inviting him to sit. He complies and picks up the spoon. He can't really be poisoned, but he eyes his food suspiciously. Oh no, you are not that simple. Although a thought of laxative did visit your livid mind, that would be way too mild!

You lean over his shoulder, making sure he catches your fragrance and one of your curls brushes his ear, and put a slice of bread on his plate. You are standing behind his left shoulder, and he is not moving. You give out a silver laugh, "I am not trying to poison you, smith. It is a peace offering. It is truly not so manky to be married to me, I know where a woman belongs." He is sitting very straight.

"And where is it?" His voice is coarse.

"Behind her husband," your tone is quickly descending into purring. "Tending him, serving him, pleasing him..." While talking, you are leaning closer, and your breath brushes his ear… Would you look at that! The shell burns up, and his shoulders are tense. "I can be a good wife, smith. You have tried my bath, try my dinner..."

Seemingly without his will his hand stretches, and he scoops some food on his plate. He tries it and is chewing, his body still rigid… Good… He makes a sip from his goblet, and you bend over his shoulder again, refilling it. The chain with the pearl slips out of the cut of your dress, and the pendant slides on his hand. His fingers twitch… Yes, smith. That is a leash… Would you like to take it? His hand doesn't move, but bloody hell, would he like to… Just look how much reserve he is showing. Hard bloke. The problem is there's blood in his veins, and it means it can rush to certain organs… Especially if there is some additional stimulation…

You start straightening up, and your tit brushes his upper arm. Bingo. His whole body jerks, and he grabs you. His hands are on your ribs, he swirls you, one hand pushes the plates and bowls off the table, another sliding up your leg. He growls, and his hot mouth is pressed between your breasts. You moan and arch into him. He growls again, greedy and forceful, biting into your flesh, his hands bruising you, and you spread your legs… Couple more seconds, and he is randy enough… Just wait a few seconds, Aphrodite…

His hands are bunching up your skirt, mouth exploring your breasts, and he pulls one whole into his mouth. The fabrique of the tunic dampening, you grab handfuls of his hair and press his head closer. "Oh Ares..."

Check and mate. His body freezes and then starts shaking, he slowly moves away and straightens up. His eyes open, and he sways. You are lying spread on the first table and blissfully smile into his eyes. "You know, smith, you are indeed good. I almost forgot who is on top of me." He pushes from the table and makes a clumsy step back. His limp leg catches on the chair he toppled over when he grabbed you, and he struggles to keep balance. His blue eyes are burning, and his tanned skin is ashen. You continue looking at him calmly.

He swallows and heavily sits on the bench by the wall. His eyes are expressionless, and then he blinks. "Thank you..." His voice is hollow.

"For what?"

"For the dinner. And for the lesson. Thank you for reminding me why I hate gods so much."

"Do you hate yourself, smith? You are one of us after all." He lifts his eyes at you, and his lips twist in a pained grimace. He chuckles.

"Oh yeah, more than any of you cunts."

You get up from the table and lift your chin. When did this become so serious? Well, in for an inch… "Good. I'll be in my room. Call me when it is time for breakfast, and I hope you'll excuse me. I'll absolve myself from preparing it."

You apparate to your room and fall on the bed. You quickly conjure an invisible sound barrier around it and start bawling. Stupid Aphrodite, what is your problem? Nothing happened! You taught the tosser a lesson. That will show him… Sobs are getting louder, and you are biting into a pillow. Shut your gob! The last thing you need is red eyes over some manky, grotty, moronic… Nothing helps, and you curl into a ball pressing a cushion to your chest. An hour later you are knackered, no more tears left in you, and you are lying sniffing and hiccuping on the bed. Honestly, what is wrong with you? Is it Ambrosia deprivation already? You behave like a mortal bint!

Everything will be done in nine days. You just have to survive it. Maybe you'll have to apologise. You will need those kisses after all. You can go to him, feigh repentance, kiss him chastely as an apology. That would be one. And then you'll think of something. He obviously fancies you, note the table groping… No, don't note it. Delete, delete, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why is it even affecting you? It's his heat, the mortal passion, the rawness… Delete, delete, nothing happened… Alright, where were you? Right, nine days, eight kisses, and then you will go home. There will be a do, and your friends will be there, you'll drink, you'll dance, and by then you'll think of some poor sod to marry you. And everything will be just ace.

You roll on your back. Everything will be ace… And then suddenly a mental thought comes to your mind. You get scared just an instant before it takes shape. No, no, no, you are not thinking about it… But it is too late… Nine days pass, you leave the forge in the morning of the eleventh day here, and the smith… What happens to the smith? You win your wager, Zeus gets rid of you, they afterall just need to marry you so that gods stop trying to fight each other for the right to get their leg over you, and what happens to the smith? No way Zeus lets him back if he can't get something out of it.

Your skin is burning, and suddenly the memories of his palms sliding over your skin come back. He was greedy, starved, but there was tenderness there too. You know that because you have never felt it before. Whoever was previously allowed to touch you were honoured, awed, randy, greedy, but no one opened up and shared themselves with you. And the smith did. In those few seconds it felt as if you learnt him, heard him, his life force, his pulse, his will... You cover your face with your hands. Now, how did you get into this aggro, Aphrodite?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: ****Just4Me****, thank you for your reviews and for the idea of ****"Guess the God" game! How did I do in this chapter? :P**

**A/N#2: Gemini-6989, Lady Stardust on Mars, A, RagdollPrincess, dearreader and all the rest of you brilliant people! Thank you so much for the reviews and compliments! How do you think I update so often?! I feed on your reaction! Mwuahahaha :D And the majesticness of Thorin's yummy everything! :D**

Through the night you industriously work through the bamf that your doves load on your sill. You are being exceptionally generous. Slathering love all over the world, and no, you are not blinking compensating for anything! Even bog standard affairs get your blessing, if feelings are involved, and no, you are not feeling bloody guilty! Shut your gob! A few letters from very randy blokes on the pull are rejected, and you vindictively give one slapper of a nymph the crabs. You are not a goddess of nookie, you are love and passion personified! Then you go back and fix your nobbling. No need to be bitchy just because you are feeling guilty. Bollocks, you are not!.. Oh, whatever...

Morning comes, and you cautiously creep down your stairs. The kitchen is empty, and so is his bedroom. And no, you are not trying to see him in the nuddy again. You are supposed to be present for his brekkie. Yuck… Well, he knows the rules, so you might as well go back to your attic. Instead of opening the second door and mincing down the dim stairs.

My oh my… The forge is a giant round room, fire roaring, and no way it can actually fit into the house. Snookering with the fourth dimension, are we, smith? And blimey… Three hench blokes, chests bare, banging on an anvil… The golden boy, all glowing and glistening, that's what they call fit these days, and you are even enjoying the view of the darker chesthair!.. Mmmm... Not your gig, lithe and smooth is your thing, but blimey, that's brill! He is holding something in tongs, a hammer in his left hand, while the dark haired one, holding a larger hammer in two hands, rhythmically drops it on the anvil. Oh he is delish! The locks, the eyes like black olives, and the shoulder waist ratio!... That's what Archimedes created his science for! And the last but, bollocks, not the least, the Brute… That explains the upper arms. The hammer twice as large as the rest, and yes, you get the richness of innuendos, held in his right hand, his torso half turned to the anvil… Bang, bang, bang… Wow, mental… Him and the dark haired boy are hitting in turns, in a graceful dance of fire madness. Blimey, how do they not turn in crisps here?! The heat, the fire, the sparks! The dark haired boy steps back and goes to the bellows, he pulls a lever, and the fire erupts in a stove you were hiding near. You squeal and jump in the center of the room. The boys are staring at you agape and then turn to their master. He lowers his hammer, presses it into the anvil, and barks, "What do you need, witch?" The boys' jaws drop. Right, they haven't yet seen him behaving like a wanker with you. You doubt they have ever seen anyone talk to a goddess like that in general. Tosser. You straighten up as regally as possible.

"I came down for breakfast."

"I didn't have any today. And looking at you I think I'll skip dinner too. And now get out!" You stand on tip-toes and look at what they are working on. It is just a… blob. You sniff with disappointment.

"What is it?" You point with your finger. The smith inhales to no doubt flip you off, but he forgets he is not alone in the room.

"It is going to be your wedding wreath, my lady," the dark haired pup is so helpful! Such a lambkin! All chuffed and proud of himself. You wrinkle your nose. To say it is unimpressive is to call the smith's sacred donkey a stallion.

"And I thought you were good," you give the cripple an haughty look. He clenches his brick jaw but doesn't say anything. Again, he is not the only one here.

"It is the very beginning, my goddess," the golden boy steps ahead. "It will be ready in eight days according to Zeus Almighty's order. It will be no match for your beauty even in the least, but it will be the most majestic wedding wreath one has ever seen. Master Hephaestus will give justice to the elegance of the woman who is to wear it." Smooth talk, are we? You give him a smile. He deserves one. The smith growls. "Just like with the bands you have on now."

What?! Your favy bands with pearls? Your hand instinctively flies to your hair. He made them?! You mean, yeah, the weapons he makes are ace, and you can appreciate how tidy they are, but your jewels… You look at him, eyes wide open, and you are not even playing.

"Are you done?" He snarls at the golden one, and both boys shrink away. Twat.

"I will be in my attic then. Call me when you are having dinner," you turn around and regally disappear up the stairs.

The last thing you hear is the dark haired one mumble, "We didn't mean anything by it, Uncle."

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of goddesses. They are not to be trusted. Don't even look her way again." You slam the door behind you. Wanker, what a wanker! You stomp into your room, only to find a man stretched on your bed.

"What got your knickers tied in a knot, lassy?" Bacchus's brown eyes are glimmering with laughter, and you grab a pillow from your settee and hurl it into his head.

"Who called you here, prat?" You like Bacchus, you are mates.

"The content of your amphoras, love," he lifts a bowl he is holding in his hand, it is of the size of a grown-up man's head. Piss-artist!

"Leave my Thasos white alone, berk," you plop on the bed near him and screw your eyes at him. "What can I do you for, my ever so bladdered friend?" He wiggles his brows suggestively, and you chuckle. We are pub buddies. So many fond memories! And let's face it, brew and knobbing sort of go together. But then his face is suddenly serious. Looks barmy, you hardly ever see the twat without a shit eating grin on his clock.

"I came to talk to you about the bloke downstairs." You pop a grape in your mouth and chew pensively.

"Hades?"

"What?! What does the pale freak have to do with it? No, I mean Hephaestus. He is in his forge, is he not?" You shrug. You don't want to think about his manky forge. Or how gutted he looked last night. Retreat, retreat! Not going there! Bacchus moves closer. "Listen, lassy, I owe the tosser one. There was this aggro couple centuries ago..." He shifts uncomfortably on your sheets and scratches his head under his stupid two eared sheepskin hat. You look at it in irritation. Munter thing. At least he smells nice, like fennel and wild flowers. You fondly think back at some of your most mental raves. Wow, that one time on Corsica!.. Wicked!

"Is it about the throne?" You seem to have heard some rumours.

"Yeah," he takes a big swig, "He glued Hera's royal arse to that posh chair of hers, and no one could tear her off. You should have seen her face! She was so bloody mad! The shrieks could be heard in Tartarus!" He giggles. "And then she sent Ares, her favourite bonny boy, to the smith. But the lame one is not overly fond of war in general, he has seen enough of it in his lifetime..." Bacchus bites his tongue and pretends to be busy with his wine. The goddess ESP is ringing deafeningly in your head. Right, another sensitive topic. Gee, the bloke's past is like a minefield… "So he threw the copper out. Blimey, I would pay a thousand drachmas to see it." Bacchus isn't particularly fond of his half-brother. Well, Ares is hard to like, Olympus's golden boy and such. Sibling rivalry as well, Hera molly-coddles him ad nauseam. Yuck. He probably doesn't know how to tie his own chiton. "Well, the smith knocked seven shades of snot out of our princess. Used his embers… Think furnace, used as a sling bullet. Flash of light, searing pain, then poof, our golden boy is running around the field outside, his pecker and arse on fire. Burned the cripple's favourite cedar trees." Wow, to kick the arse of the god of war, how is that even possible? No wonder this story is a hush-hush. And to set his todger on fire... You have to admit the mental image is not without certain charm. You giggle as well, and for a while the two of you are enjoying the wine in silence. Wait, cedar trees?.. Didn't you grow them back the first day here? The wine god shakes you out of your astoundment.

"Zeus sent me to the smith then," Bacchus sighs and scratches his head again, "Said the Great Goddess shouldn't have to endure such humiliation in the hands of a cripple. And that would be her own son..." The god's voice is quiet and remorseful. "So I got him really sloshed, tied him to the back of an ass and brought him to Olympus. He let her go, but Zeus tricked him. Didn't let him back onto the mountain. Said he still had to pay his debt to society." Yep, that would be you. You are his debt to society. You take a giant gulp of wine. And that is a half-arsed idea if you've ever had any. You get pissed very easily. And then you get affectionate and chatty. Very, very chatty. And randy. You know how they say, _"It's true, alcohol kills people. But how many are born because of it?" _Yeah, that part...

"So you are feeling guilty, huh?" You look at the wine god sideways. Familiar feeling... Oh, sod it, you were completely justified. He stole your bath and sent you to the kitchen like a mortal bint! Next thing he would say is "Make me a sarnie, woman!"

"Listen, lass," Bacchus picks up your hand and pats it with his other one, "Go easy on the wanker, would you? He has seen some shite in his life. I get it, he is not your first choice, but none of us gods have much say in it."

"Is that what they say on Olympus, that I am marrying him?"

"Aye, Zeus said it's decided," he looks at you with pity. "The blighter is a bloody codger, I understand. But try not to make his life completely miserable. Just leave him a whatever wee bit of dignity he has left." You avoid the wine god's bright eyes. "At least be discreet with your extramaritals, would you?" What?! What is he about? What kind of a cocked up idea do they all have about you?! "Zeus just wants you officially hitched, Ares and others do try to arse up each other over you a wee bit too much. Wedding, one night, and then you are done. And think about it," the god is momentarily distracted, "it'll be a jolly wild party," he rubs his hands and start singing loudly, "Blunt the knives! Bend the forks! Smash the bottles and burn the corks!" You wrinkle your nose, you hate vandalism. You smash him to the head with a pillow, he reciprocates, and both of you are roaring with laughter on the bed.

"I don't remember inviting you in my house, tosspot," the smith's low voice is menacing. How does he do it?! Seriously, you need to figure it out! Is it some super advanced stealth apparating? You jerk your head to look at him and realize you are more squiffy than you thought. He looks really blurred to you, and you giggle.

Bacchus lifts his hands defensively, "No harm meant, brother. Just stopped by to visit an old mate." You wave your hand, indicating it is you. Wow, you are bladdered! That's ace! You can obviously sober up with one swing of your finger, but why would you do it? Everything is so much easier through the fuzzy mist that is currently curling around you! Yeeee, pearly pink sparkles!

"It is my attic you are in, drunk. And this is my future wife you are currently rogering." What?! There is no rogering! And then you realize that your leg is wrapped around the wine god's lower extremities.

"Oops," you playfully bite into your bottom lip. "My bad!" You grab the wine god's ears and turn his face to you. "What can I say, I just love myself a nice dark haired mush." He smiles to you and kisses your cheek.

"I wish you all the luck in the world, lass. I really do." And he apparates, leaving you with air between your hands. You giggle and fall on your back.

"Hey, smith, hey!" You flail your arm in the air, and he appears in your field of vision. Wow, he is cheesed off. "Common, lean down, my head is so heavy! And the room is spinning..." There is some shuffling, but surprisingly he complies. Two large arms encage your shoulders, and his very, very grouchy face is suspended in the air above you. The curtain of his hair falls on two sides of your head, and you turn your face, brushing your nose to it. Is it actually clean and smells of soap? Who can tell, you are arseholed. You catch a strand in your hand and twirl it around your finger.

Did you mention you are an affectionate drunk? Yeah… You are also jolly sappy. Your eyes fill with hot drunk tears, and you sniff. A drunk man's tongue is a sober man's mind, isn't it what they say? "I am sorry for yesterday," you stare in his eyes. Bloody hell, that is the brightest bloody blue!..

He is studying your face. Common, really, doesn't he like the freckles at all? Even a wee bit? You brush the tips of your other hand's fingers on the beard. Some sodding thought is sloshing in your poor brain, somehow you remember that you really need to snog him. Or is it that you just really want to?! Who cares! You grab him around the neck and pulling youself up press your lips to his. Oh, you are in the Elysian Fields! He tastes better than you remember, better than you were imagining last night, better than… You moan into his mouth, and the world grows dark. Yep, baby Phro can't drink...


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Welcome, ****Shiori93**** and ****Kassandra85****! Thank you for your reviews and, please, feel free to come back for more! :D**

**A/N#2: Oh ****UKReader****, you are back! To be completely honest, I was worried, darling! But harassing a person and PMing them to ask why they stopped reviewing your mad ramblings seemed rather arrogant :) I hope you enjoyed your vacation more than I did my trip to the bolshies! :) Good to have you back, love! **

**A/N#3: Well done, ****Quaternary Structure****, it is indeed Bofur! And welcome to the story! **

**A/N#4: Dearest ****A****, your most seductive voice makes me tingle head to toe! :) How can I say "no"? :D**

**A/N#5: And a quote from my favourite Douglas Adams is hidden in the text for your entertainment :D**

**Also, if you want more chapters, my lovelies, you are in luck! I have a nasty cold so I'm confined to my bed, and would you just look at that, my laptop is here as well! :P Updating intensifies! :)**

You stretch without opening your eyes, arch your back and purr. Bless the goddess metabolism! No hangover! You roll on your side... and into the smith. What the actual fuck?! Yep, there is a sleeping god in your bed. You tense and quickly recollect what happened. Bacchus knocked up, you got sloshed and kissed the smith. So far, so good. Also bless the goddess of love instincts. Judging by the light in the window it's the morning of Day Three. Was it before or after midnight that you sucked on his face? Better safe than sorry. You wouldn't want to lose the cursed wager for missing one stupid snog. And then you lost consciousness. Which is barmy, since all you are is consciousness. That's a big philosophical question here, you once debated with Socrat for hours about it, but let's face it, you are a bloody divine being. You don't conk out. Honestly, the whole marriage business makes you so bedraggled… Right, back to the matter at hand.

Under the hand to be precise. Rolling over you placed your hand on his chest. He is sleeping on his side, one arm under his head. Oh, the lashes! How come you've never noticed the lashes! Wait, what?! Knock off the stupid ogling, chick! Bollocks, you are indeed ogling! You sent the ogling bug onto so many people that you recognise the symptoms. Bugger, bugger, bugger… Right, let's be rational about it. There is no point in getting used to him. It's like Temmy and her cats. She feeds them, snuggles with them and then can't give them up. Not only this particular god is no fluffy kitten, he is a whole bag full of cats. Worst option out of the gods available. Grotty, grouchy, unsophisticated, uneducated, insensitive, cantankerous, arrogant…

Warm… He is so warm, and his heart is beating under your palm. Bollocks. The whole phrenes, menos and psyche thing that they say about mortals, their soul, strength and wit, well, you gods don't have it. There is the holistic unity of a person, all your being one and whole. Again, there was a long discussion with Aristotle about it, he was being a tosser as usual. Mortals also have to deal with this new stupid idea that their bodies are a separate entity altogether, which is totally mental and cocked up, since their bodies are as much them as their psyche. You should know, since you are in charge of both hearts and cocks and fannies. But again, not the smartest of species, are they? You honestly prefer birds and dolphins. The first are cheery and fit, the second ones are assumed by men to be less intelligent since they haven't achieved all that wicked stuff humans have, like the wheel, Athens, wars and so on, whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a jolly good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man, for precisely the same reasons. Yep, you definitely prefer dolphins.

Also, dolphins don't do one-off things. They are way too smart for that. And if they do, they don't end up in the manky situation such as this. And they definitely don't curl up their fingers to appreciate the hard, hot pectoral muscles under their hand. Well, they don't have bloody fingers, to start with. Also they don't feel suddenly dizzy from being randy. Like some not so smart goddesses at the moment. What is wrong with you?! You need to move away and stop groping him. But it's the call of his blood. Because he has his divine energy running through him, but also you can hear his heart, his life force, his flesh… And remember that whole thing with a biggie and him being floppy? Well, that is not the case at the moment. That is definitely a giant cock pressed into your hip.

Alrighty… Let's set it straight. You are a virgin. Long story, but the point is if anything had happened, you would have known. The whole thing is actually pretty ace, the first time for a goddess is a rad experience. Unlike for poor mortal birds. Honestly, even you sometimes have mixed feelings about a shag for some couples. The whole blood and pain thing… Bollocks, you mean, it's worth it, but to be honest sometimes you think maybe they should just get pissed and sleep through the whole thing.

So, you are a virgin, but you are the goddess of getting it off at the same time. It is a funny kerfuffle. You sort of know it all and have experienced vicariously, but this… This is grand! Wow, that is what it is like?! Bugger, sign Aphrodite up! You gently move your leg up and down, and yep, more blood goes South. Wow… That is bloody impressive!

And it's time to admit it, you love his nose! The bridge is straight, and it is just asking you to run your fingertip on it. You might even be alright with the beard at the moment. And the lips… The lips… Oh sod it! You firmly grab the back of his head with your hand and press your mouth to his. Tick Day Three.

He inhales and pulls you closer without opening his eyes. Oh yes, please. His heavy leg presses yours to the bed, and you tingle all over. One of hands controlling his head, you slide another one on his chest and brush the hollow between his collarbones with the tips of your fingers. There is just something so yum about his strong neck…

He pushes you away from him, makes a few clumsy flailing movements and falls off the bed with a loud thud. Honestly, way to give a bird a complex. If you didn't know that you are the best snog he's ever had in his immortal life, you'd feel bloody insecure.

"Gods, what are you?.. What is wrong with?.." He is mumbling and blinking furiously. He is so ridiculous that you crack up. Not quite the reaction one expects from the dark and brooding. He is staring at you, eyes wide open, and you sit up and flip your hair over your shoulder. Should you point out that his cock is still pointing up at forty five degrees to the floor? Poor sod. Nah, you are in a merciful mood today.

"What are you doing in my bed, smith?" You sound very, very smug.

"Dinner…" He croaks. "You were out cold, I needed to eat my dinner..." You look at the floor near him, there is a dirty bowl there. Yuck. You wave your hand, and it disappears. Is that a bloody blush on his cheekbones?

"You didn't notice how you fell asleep, did you, smith?" Oh, you are so enjoying it. He is quickly pulling himself together. And snarls. Nope, not intimidating anymore. Toodlepip, Aphrodite's habdabs!

"It was either this, or carrying your unconscious body to the kitchen," he is sneering, and you stretch on the bed, knowing exactly how fit your hip looks when you bend your leg just like that… He visibly swallows. With difficulty. Is he going to crawl out of the room on all four?

He jumps up on his feet and glares at you. "I'll see you downstairs in half an hour, goddess." He rushes through the door, awkwardly limping. Seriously, how does he appear out of thin air one moment and the next time he is such a berk?

Feeling all lush and tidy, you rinse quickly and change in one of your favourite togas. Gentle turquoise blue, another golden choker on your throat, sandals going up your thighs indecently high, and heavy pearl bracelets. And no, you are not dolling yourself up for a brekkie with the smith! That would be preposterous! You are twirling in front of your mirror, when you feel another presence in the room just before a loud thump. Gods, this tosser! No sense of personal space whatsoever. And will at least one of them wankers start knocking before entering?

"My beloved," Ares does have a criminal voice. All low and rumbling in his chest and crawling up on you. If only you could ignore the creepy goosebumps you get from his cold, murderous vibe… And his latest obsession with turning into a giant winged lizard and burning cities and murdering people for craic. You do not bestow him with a look and pretend to fix your hair.

"I do not remember accepting you as my consort, soldier," you keep your tone chilly. He comes closer and stands behind you. You blatantly ignore his smooth, chiseled torso under a toga that has only a narrow sachet on his upper body, his dark golden curls, strange slanted eyes, all colours splashing in them, posh Cupid bow lips. Pity you still see scales on his perfect skin when he comes close. Bollocks, you do look good together. When people think of war and violence they imagine someone hench and ripped, but honestly the bloke is much more terrifying. Probably because he is a highly functional psychopath. He is rather tall, lithe, strange almost unattractive face, but women love him. There is a certain hysteria among birds for his slanted everchanging eyes and weird chins. What is bloody wrong with modern women?!

"Common, darling, don't be shy," his mesmerizing voice makes you hold your breath, and he starts lowering his lips to your naked shoulder.

"I am not shy, soldier," your cold tone makes him freeze, sorry for the pun, "I am just not interested." He catches your eyes in the mirror and steps back.

"So is it the limp one now? Strange choice, Aphrodite. Such a beautiful, sensual woman like you, with your love for poetry and beauty..." He vaguely waves his elegant long-fingered hand, "What will you talk about with the smith? Forges and bellows?" He venomously spits out his words. Poisonous slug.

"Who says we will be talking much?" You conjure and place your favourite bands in your hair. Somehow touching them makes you feel calmer. You try not to think that it is because they came from under the fingers of the cursed smith. You are not a misty-eyes dimwit bird. The war god's face falls, but then he gives you his best snake smile.

"I am almost tempted to let him have you, if only to see the smith suffer, watch you destroy him, watch you corrupt his heart and drive him mad…" And then he grabs your upper arm and twirls you, pinning you with his hypnotic stare. "But I think not. I think our little game ends here!" He is obviously planning to rudely snog you, but you have had a very grotty couple of days. And it is only romantic in Homer's poems.

A ball of your magic hits him in the solar plexus, and to think of it, with the smith couple days ago you were holding back a wee bit. But not with the murderous wanker, thank you very much. His body breaks a tosser shaped hole in the wall, and you hear him hit the ground under your window.

A rageful scream shakes the field below. "Aphrodite, you wench! You will pay for your insolence!" Gee, what a dramatic imbecile! You stick your head out of the hole and give him a lookover. He has landed in rose bushes and is obviously endlessly uncomfortable, prickly branches stuck deep in his perfect arse. Wait, rose bushes?.. "Do you think your magic can harm me?!" He honestly should get up before delivering his speech, but he is still half sitting in the ruins of the shrubbery. Oh poor darlings, let Aphrodite take care of you! "My armour is divine iron, no blade can pierce me! I am fire, I am death!"

"And here I was thinking I was fire," the smith's calm tone is mocking, and you stick out further. He is standing on the back porch, his hammer in his hand. "Did I take something from you that now you feel you need to retaliate and take away my last title?" Yep, the underlying meaning of the sarcastic question is quite clear. The smith looks at your sideways, and you give him a small friendly wave.

"You can take nothing from me, cripple. I lay low warriors and kings. I instill terror in the hearts of men. I am the king of the gods!" Seriously, his voice is so hysterical that he sounds rather shrieky.

"Don't think your pops will be pleased to hear that, soldier," the smith is obviously having a thorough piss out of him. Ares jerkily gets up, a few twigs sticking out of his not so perfect anymore auburn waves.

"Cunt," even the swearing sounds rather posh when he pronounces it. As they say, if you don't speak like Ares, you don't speak correctly. Whatever. "I don't care! Take the whore! I do not desire her anymore!" Why do they always talk about you like you are not bloody there? Hello, surprisingly women have an opinion too. Wankers. "What was it she promised you, a share of her sweet loving, smith? Are you ready to be fed leftovers, cripple? I would not part with a single piece, but you are different! You are used to humiliation!" He hisses through his teeth, and you can swear you see a manky nuzzle of some scaly monster instead of his perfect face with his sodding perfect cheekbones. You see the smith's body tense, he makes a step towards the god of war, who quickly apparates away with a quiet rustle, and you are left staring at the empty broken bushes. You can swear yesterday there were no roses underneath your window.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This one is for ****RagdollPrincess****! Here is your Kili fix, love! :D**

**A/N#2: Does anyone want to hit me with a prompt, ****my lovelies****? Drop a quote from a Brit (that's the only condition, otherwise anything goes :D) into your review and watch it sneak into the next chapter! :)**

You rush from the window and jerk the door out of your room open. You are standing at the top step of the stairs, while the smith opens the door at the bottom, and his wide body is nicely framed by the light flowing into the staircase. Oh, it's like those romantic comedies by Menander, all soppy and giggly! You will run down, your small sexy feet pitter-pattering, and fall in his arms. You will wrap your arms around his neck, and he will twirl you around the room, now that you have bonded over kicking arse of the scaly wanker...

"I'm so bloody brassed off with you and all the gits that come after your fanny, goddess!" He is growling, and the smile falls of your face. What?! "Whom am I to throw out of your room next? Are you hiding Zeus under your skirts now, witch?" His fists are clenched, and you are immediately ticked off. What is his bloody problem?!

"Are you plank?! How is that my fault?"

"Get it off with whoever you want, witch, but have some decency to do it elsewhere!" He roars and smashes the door closed.

Oh, wanker! You just can't believe it! Bloody arsehole! You growl and stomp your feet. How dares he? And what is it about throwing someone out? A. You did all the throwing out. And B, no one tells you what to do! Your fanny is yours alone, you can bloody put whatever you want in it! You stomp a dozen more times and grab the door handle to close it, when the door on his end bursts open again, and he is standing there breathing heavily.

"Get your arse down, witch. I need my nosh." Ahhh, manky brute! You fold your arms on your chest. But you have to admit you have no power here. He is only complying with the rules because he doesn't know what happens if he doesn't. You need him at least partially mollified, gods forbid, if he finds out about the wager. He disappears in the kitchen, and you apparate there. And no, you are not avoiding the stairs because you had such grand plans for. You are not that thick. He is grouchily chewing a piece of bread. There are fruit and goat cheese on his plate. You plop on the stool in front of him and pointedly stare through the window. But then you remember the rose bushes. Oh poor duckies, you need to go help them!

"Finish your breakfast faster, smith. I have matters to attend to."

"Oh, I don't doubt," he grumbles under his nose. You clench your teeth to stop yourself from turning your bitchy goddess mode on. This is Day Three, Aphrodite. You can do it. Stop getting soppy, eyes on the prize. You look at him from the corner of your eye. Not that prize, you daft bird. Freedom of choice, the chance to choose your own husband, the chance to stick it up to Zeus. And the smith. And Ares. And Hera. Wow, that is a lot of people to stick it up to. Busy, busy times, you are so bloody engaged these days. And not in the sense they all want you to be. The smith takes another piece of bread, and you growl. Is he for real?! You just said you are in a hurry! He seems to be enjoying his food more, now that he knows that it makes you all cheesed off. He pops a cherry tomato in his mouth and squints his eyes in pleasure. You can hear the fruit pop in his mouth. You can't help it, you look into his plate.

"And what is it like?" He stops chewing and looks at you peevishly.

"What?"

"The food." He shakes his head exasperated. Tosser.

"What's with daft questions, goddess? I know you eat. I saw it. You have grapes and figs in your room."

"But those are fruit. They are for pleasure. And go well with wine. Melons, or apples, or pears..." Bugger, you are rattling. You love fruit. And you are trying not to look at how his throat moves when he eats. He is giving you a scrutinizing look and pushes his plate towards you.

"Try it."

"Are you bloody mental? I'm a goddess!" He cocks a brow. Bloody Hades, the brow… You gulp and climb off the stool. A few lily-livered steps, and yeah, you are not proud of all this bloody timidness, and you stand near him. He is sitting, his limp leg stretched under the table, his massive hands passively lying on the table. You were wrong, they are not spade-like. Large, calloused, but the fingers are long and the wrist is strong and elegant, though definitely masculine. Congrats, chick, with more ogling. Bugger. You exhale and carefully pick up a small piece of cheese. It is rather fit actually. White, soft, and the texture is sort of nice…

"I wouldn't start with that," his voice is teasing. That's it, one more of his smart-arse remarks, and you are leaving! He picks up a slice of a fig and carefully places it on top of the cheese cube in your hand. "Feta is an acquired taste." Just to tick him off you shove the food in your mouth and chew. The flavours explode in your mouth, and you feel your eyes boggle. You freeze with your mouth full of mortal food, the daftness of your actions finally reaching your stupid brain, and he smirks. Conceited, cantankerous, oh stuff him! You swallow and look at the table. There is a small jar of honey on it. You dip your finger in it and place it in your mouth. Now who is tense and has trouble breathing? You suck on your finger and pull it out of your rounded lips. Very, very slowly.

"The cheese is grotty, but this..." You dunk the finger again, "This is actually not that bad..." A heavy golden drop is hanging from the tip of your finger, and you lift it to your mouth. You wait long enough for it to fall on your bottom lip on its own and then lick it off and close your eyes as if in a bliss. You might be, his face is priceless! "Mmmmm, I rather fancy this mortal food." You open your eyes and enjoy the view of his pupils that are so dilated there is almost no blue left in his irises. You slowly and thoroughly lick the honey off your finger, bend down, making sure your bum sticks up just the right way and pick up the jar. "I think I'll go and savour it in my room. It should be enjoyed in comfort..." You turn around and walk away from him. His scorching stare burns your hips as if he is stroking them with his hands. You might be humming a tune too.

Half way up the stairs you apparate under your window. These are indeed rose bushes. They are arsed up by Ares's fall but you quickly fix them. Heavy opulent flowers rejoice, dark red and perfect. You breath in the smell and sit near them on the grass. You pick up one flower and put it in your hair. You need to do serious self-analysis at the moment. Because it seriously looks like you've gone mad. Suddenly you feel iffy. It might be the mortal grub in your stomach, but you doubt it. And for the record you have no bloody idea why you even ate it. That's blinking barmy. Some grotty smith taunts you, and hello! You need to smart up your act, chick. What will he snooker you into doing the next time? No, definitely iffy. You head starts spinning, and you feel nausea rising. But it can't be the food, you don't need it, but it's not poison for you. It is something else… You try to get up, but your knees buckle, and the world swims in front of your eyes. You feel your body sag on the ground, and you can't take a breath in. Again, don't need air to live… But it is scary… Your fingers scrape the ground, and you whimper…

"Uncle!" You hear the dark boy's alarmed voice, and you try to open your eyes. He drops on his knees near you, and you see his giant dark eyes. Killilos, his name is Killilos… "My lady, are you alright?" He sounds panicked, you guess you don't look that good, and then he yells towards the forge, "Uncle! Quickly!" He raises his hand but doesn't dare touching you. It feels like there is a bloody elephant sitting on your chest... You weakly flail your arm and catch his hand. He stares at it in shock, but he is a quicker thinker than you thought. He picks you up and carries you to the house.

He hurriedly kicks the door open and puts you down on a bench. "My lady, you have to tell me what to do!" Pillock, you can't breath! How are you supposed to instruct him?! Even more so, you have no bloody idea yourself! "Alright, alright, no panic..." He picks up the choker off your neck and tosses it aside. It helps a wee bit, but you are sure it is getting worse. What the fuck?! You are feeling more and more dizzy, your thoughts jumble… You are not dying, that is mental… You are a goddess… It is getting darker…

"Uncle!" He yells towards the stairs leading to the forge, but it is quite obvious the smith doesn't hear him. And what is he going to do exactly?!.. You need Asclepius, the god of healing. You stretch your hand and a few seconds later a dove lands on it. The boy is staring at it. The bird tilts its head and studies you with its attentive black eyes. A moment later it flies out of the window. You just have to hold on till he gets here... You might not have enough time though. A sudden painful cough shakes your body, and the boy brushes hair off your face.

"Alright, let's be smart about it… It's a goddess. So probably not a disease..." He is mumbling under his nose. "No wounds..." His fingers lightly run down your body. Great, now he is groping you. You would be angry if you didn't feel this fierce gratitude towards him. He is trying to help, poor lambkin. You try to focus on his face. So pure, so kind… Whatever they say about you, you aren't daft. You know how cruel the world is. He doesn't have to worry about you, you are just a self-centered, egotistic goddess that happens to live in his house. He bites into his bottom lip, and then his face lights up. "Poison! It is poison of sorts! Not the food obviously, goddesses don't eat..." Well, here you are wrong, sweetie… "The dress?" He is suddenly pale. Is he imagining how he will have to pull it off you? You would giggle, if another bout of this grotty cough didn't rake through your body. You feel some moist on your lips. You know the taste, it is ichor, divine blood. Oh no, it's poisonous for mortals… You try to warn him, but you can't, your throat is constricted. He lowers his face to you. Oh no, not the boy… So young, so beautiful… His eyes are running up and down you, and then suddenly they fire up. He grabs a cloth from the table, wraps it around his hand and pulls the rose out of your hair. A giant gulp of air enters your lungs, and your body arches. You can suddenly move your arms, and you push him away.

"Ichor… My blood… It'll kill you..." You are coughing again, but it feels definitely better.

"It is alright, I'm not mortal." He throws the flower into the corner of the room and dashes to support you. You have no energy to get surprised. You cough more, and several drops of ichor fall on his sleeve. You press your face into his chest. His presence is soothing, and his arm wraps around your shoulder. "I need to call Uncle, he can help. He is a good healer."

You remember something about his healing abilities. Even Lemnian Earth, the clay from the place he fell from Olympus to is supposedly a cure for whole bunch of diseases. You weren't listening when Thea was gushing about it. They share the hobby for curing some grotty illnesses, but why would you care… You are immortal. Immortal my ass! You cough again, this time it feels like the pain is deeper in your chest.

You have no energy to apparate, and he probably can't. Blimey, what did you get yourself into?! Who are the two boys you apparently cohabitate with? He picks you up again and carries you down the stairs into the forge. The pain in the chest is almost intolerable, and you whimper. His touch is helping though, and you breathe in his fresh smell. No way in Hades he is supposed to smell like that considering how manky and sweaty he looks. The fragrance eminating from his skin is fresh and nutty. Like sunshine, or walnuts, or pine sap...

You are hiding your face into him, when you feel a different pair of hands pick you up. The smith… The pair of his icy blues eyes is suddenly sharp in the nauseating mist in front of your eyes. "What happened?"

"I found her like that. On the ground under her window… It was a rose. In her hair, it was poisoned… I took it out, and she seemed to breath better..." You feel the smith's hands run along your ribs, and you whine. You want him to touch you more. His hands are confident and warm. "But the cough gets worse, see? The ichor..."

The smith sits on a bench pressing you to his chest, you are curled up in his arms, and he is barking some orders. You hear clanking, and it smells grotty in the air. Are they mixing some herbs? Vaguely you hear the golden boy's voice, but it seems to be the end of your strength. The world is melting away, and you are only sorry to let go of the feeling of his body under your hands...

Some grotty bitter brew is rudely poured into your mouth, and you cough, trying to spit it out. Then your nose is pinched, and you have no choice but to swallow some of it. It slides down your throat, burning and manky, and you are battering his hands away. He is too strong, and seriously, that should be considered abuse! Your lungs fill with air, and you whine.

"Shhhh, poulaki mou, one more sip," his tender tone is a stark contrast to his boorish actions, and you relax in his hands, obediently taking another gulp. Your face scrunches in disgust. He presses you closer to him, and you can finally see some of your surroundings. His eyes are panicked, his chest is heaving, one arm wrapped around you protectively. He blindly pushes the bowl he was making you drink from into the hands of the golden boy. His other hand flies to your head, and he starts stroking your hair. He is also gently rocking you on his lap, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

A loud pop sounds deafening in the silent room, and Asclepius spins on his spot trying to find his potential patient. His long white beard, separated in the middle sways in the air, and his dark sharp eyes fall on you.

"What took you so long, old man?" The smith sounds enraged. His scowl is terrifying. At the same time he is tenderly cupping the back of your head and then presses a kiss to your temple. His lips are trembling. You push your nose under his jaw and breathe him in. Under your palm you feel his frantically beating heart.

**A/N: Are there any Greeks here? Is "poulaki" OK for "little bird"? I do not particularly trust Google Translate :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: OMG, my darlings, you are the best! That is so much fun! I am all sick and grotty, but also happy as a lark! More, more quotes!**

**A/N#2: ****Dearreader****, thank you for the compliment! I have 11 years of teaching experience :) But it is definitely not in Greek mythology :) And let's face it, teaching has never been so much fun!**

**A/N#3: ****UKReader ****and ****Lady Stardust on Mars****, the roses mystery will unravel eventually! **

**A/N#4: ****A****, of course she is not very lovable. She is egocentric, conceited, narcissistic and altogether a spoilt goddess. Isn't love like that? :) But she is softening a bit! Who wouldn't? Have you seen those blue eyes and delectable lips of a certain smith? :)**

**And thank you, from now "****poulaki mou****" it is, for "my little bird," to add to the list of all those wren/filegethiel/zundush/zundushinh/calibri :D**

Asclepius comes closer and bends down to look at you. "Don't mind me, laddie. You seem to be treating my patient just fine here." He picks up your hand and gently takes your pulse. He has wonderful clever eyes, sparkling with laughter and wisdom, and you smile to him weakly. "Aphrodite, my dearest, despite obvious poisoning with aconite potion, you look lovely." The smith snarls at him.

"What are you blabbering, old man? She doesn't look lovely, someone just tried to do her in with Wolf's Bane!"

Asclepius, completely chill, pats his shoulder softly, "And good job on the use of moly grass, laddie." The smith snorts derisively and presses you to him tighter. You are so warm and comfortable that you start nodding off. The god of healing gently taps the tip of your nose. "My dearest, where is the source of poison?"

"It is a rose, it's in the kitchen," Killion answers from his corner, and Asclepius turns to him. The dark haired boy shifts between his feet, embarrassed, and the god of healing gives him a warm smile.

"Took it out, hey? Good thinking. Need to look at your hand after I'm done with our dearest goddess here," Killilos hides his palm behind his back, but you notice it is black. You guess the poison burnt through the rug. You suddenly feel nauseated again and hide into the smith's chest. Asclepius heads to the kitchen but on the way he throws a glance on the boys standing in the corner, "Hebe's boys, aye?" You jerk your head up. Hebe as in Heracles's wife Hebe? You feel the smith tense, and you look at him. He is blatantly ignoring your stare, twirling a strand of your hair in his fingers.

Asclepius brings the rose from the kitchen in his tweezers, pulls out some vials from his sack and starts performing some barmy experiments. You are not interested. You are suddenly knackered. You lean back into the smith's embrace and then gently scratch his chest to make him look at you.

"Thank you." He screws his eyes at you and then suddenly gently bumps his nose to yours in a very unfitting playful gesture. You are staring into his smiling eyes aghast.

"Don't be such a witch, and we are even." You open your mouth to flip him off, you never behave like a bloody witch! But then you snort and put your head back on his shoulder.

"Well, anemone, asphodel and bitter almond extract… What does it tell us, laddie?" The healing god tilts his head and looks at the smith.

"Circe..." To say that Hephaestus's voice is furious is to say nothing. "That slag..."

"Aye, that is the enchantress's signature move."

"Why would Circe want to kill me?" You remember her file. Sorceress, residence on Aeaea, fit, but totally mental. You quickly rummage through your memory. No, never crossed paths with her. She definitely should have a grudge against Hermes, he didn't let Odysseus knob her, although she jolly fancied the bloke, but you were really engaged at that time with Penelope, Odysseus's wife, she had 108 suitors to batter off, so nope, Circe shouldn't be cheesed off with you.

"Firstly, she was probably hired by someone..." The healing god is pensively twirling the rose in his tweezers.

"Enchantresses are always in need of some nosh," agrees the smith.

"And given they are not cheap, everything goes in the bill, out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and again, to attack a goddess… She wasn't hired by a mortal, that is for certain." Asclepius is studying the rose in his hands. "Secondly, doubtful that would kill you, my lady. Could put you in an eternal sleep, but kill... Don't think so. You are a goddess after all." Oh that's just ace. No, not death, just eternal sleep. You wouldn't notice the bloody difference, would you?

"I want to go to bed. Please?" You stroke the smith's cheek. You are so buggered, you just want to lie down.

"Do you still need to see her, old man?" Oh common, will anybody ever start asking what you want or need?

"No, I can see she is in reliable hands," Asclepius gives him an encouraging smile. "It appears I have no work here. You've done honorably, smith. You have kept the poison from constricting her menos. You might as well have given her a new life. A life that is worth more than you yourself know." The smith hike up his brows. "Oh don't mind me, laddie. Old man's rattling."

The smith gets up, and after a moment of hesitation he apparates into your attic. Wow, that is one smooth trip. Completely silent too. You do need to figure it out after all, but not now… He gently puts you on the bed, and you curl into a ball. He pulls covers over you, and you catch his hand. "I mean it, smith. Thank you..."

He nods and then suddenly leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. "Have some rest."

Your eyes close, and he pulls his fingers out of yours, but you grab him tighter at the very last moment. "Say thank you to Killilos too. He saved my life. And his hand… We need to make sure it is fine."

He rubs your knuckles with his thumb, and you nod off. Goddesses have no dreams, but they also don't sleep, do they? Your head is full of some grotty images, all jumbled in some weird slumber, and you jerk and sit up. The room is empty, and it is rather dark. Oh no, you have missed his dinner! You quickly throw a shawl over your shoulders and run down the stairs. There is light in the kitchen, and you hear some soft conversation. You peek. All three men are sitting around the table, talking in hushed voices. They notice your presence and jump up on their feet. Well, except the smith. Oh you hate this grotty feeling, when you know people were talking about you and now they all just stare at you!

"Have you eaten dinner, smith?" You sound way too snooty. No one talks about you behind your back! And then you notice bandage on Killilos's hand. You come closer and touch his shoulder. "How is your hand, Killilos?"

"It is fine," he makes a very honest face, which tells you it isn't. You give the smith a stern look.

"He'll live." What a neglectful twat! "Just has to apply some balms. Asclepius left him some." The boys excuse themselves and scatter. You sit on your usual stool, and he starts his dinner. He is pointedly looking only in his plate. Let's face it, it is very awkward. You both were very chummy after the kerfuffle with the rose, and now it all is strange. A sudden thought comes to your head.

"Do you really send your apprentices away to eat in the forge?" Why are you asking? You don't care about some boys. In seven days you won't ever see them again. He lifts his eyes and stares at you, his brows hiked up in surprise. What? Do you have something on your face?

"They don't eat or sleep, goddess. They are not mortal." What? And then the puzzle pieces finally fit together.

"They are Hede and Heracles's sons! What were their names?" You are frowning, trying to remember. Once a couple is hitched, you are rarely interested in their life. Let's face it, that's when love and shagging usually thin out. "Alexiares and Anicetus! Right? What was it, "he who wards off war" and "the unconquerable one"! Why aren't they on Olympus with their mother?" He picks up his bowl, and turning his back to you he throws it into the sink. "Smith?"

"Leave it be, goddess. They are none of your concern." He is right. You have nothing to do with any of them. Oh bugger. Too late now, isn't it? You get up and stand near him.

"Why two young gods are stuck with you on earth, smith?"

"Because their father was stupid enough to take my side!" He yells and slams his massive fist into a wall. You jump up but don't step back. You are not chickening out of this. We have nothing to fear but fear itself, right? You place your hand on his shoulder. He sighs and looks at you sideways. "Heracles out of people should know not to tick Hera off, but he just wouldn't listen. Hebe, the boys' mother, is my sister, we always had nice relationships. And he just wouldn't let it go… At least they are still gods, just stuck here with me. She knew where to hit, where all my weak points are..." You feel tears filling your eyes, you feel so sorry for him that it hurts. Yep, while most gods throw dice, Hera plays chess, and you don't find out till too late that she's been playing with two queens all along. What is it about him that makes her so gutted? Stupid cunt.

You press your forehead to his shoulder and blurt out, "I thought you planted the roses for me." He tenses, and you are too embarrassed to look at him.

"Why would I do that?" His tone is grouchy. Exactly. Are you mental, Aphrodite? Shut your gob!

"To please me. They are my sacred flowers..." You really should run right now. But to straighten up means to look at him. And you can't. And your ears are burning.

"Aphrodite..." His voice is suddenly low and smokey, and your heart jumps up. And then with a loud pop the kitchen fills with golden smoke, and Thea majestically steps out of it. Worst timing ever. Or best? Oh bugger, you don't understand anything anymore.

"Hello, my lovelies! Your most beloved goddess is here at last!" She makes a flamboyant gesture with her hand, and you stealthily move away from the smith. Too late, she noticed. Bugger. She narrows her eyes and purrs, "My oh my! And here I am, coming to comfort my friend after a horrible turmoil, but as they say, crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping. And as I see my little Phro acquired herself a stallion." Sod her innuendos.

The door bursts open and the smith's nephews fall into the kitchen, armed with swords and shields. Thea licks her lips. Not good, not good.

"My oh my…" She walks to them, her hips swinging, fit as fuck, and you cover your eyes with your hand. And then you peek through your fingers. The smith is fuming. "Well, hello! Athena, goddess of war. In charge of this," she gently strokes the tip of Fillipo's sword with her index finger, "And this," she brushes her hand to Killilos's temple.

"Heads?" Killilos's voice is raspy. Yep, she definitely obliterated whatever was there in his noggin.

"Wisdom, my boy, and courage." She pokes his chest over his heart and winks. She turns to Fillipo and scratches his chin. "Like the beard. Gives me something to hang on to," she thrusts her hips sideways and towards Filippo's crotch, and he gulps. Time to interfere!

"Thea, what are you doing here?" She turns to you, and for a second the salacious fire leaves her eyes. She is ace of a friend after all.

"I was worried. Asclepius told me you've been in an aggro." You groan, you weren't going to make it national news. She steps to you and suddenly gives you a tight hug. Oh her glorious tits! You are suffocating!

"Thea, you are choking me..." She lets you go, and you rub her upper arm. She looks sincerely bedraggled. "I am fine now."

"Yes, she is fine now. It's time you go, goddess," the smith's voice is peeved, but he forgot he is dealing with the goddess of war. Her nostrils flare up, and she is in her mother hen mode. She steps between you two and moves you behind her back.

"Well, she wasn't fine not that long ago, lame one. And she was in your house when it happened," she haughtily thrusts her impressive bust ahead, to intimidate him no doubt. He clenches his jaw.

"I don't remember seeing you here after that, goddess, rushing in to save her life. I had to pour moly extract into her throat!" She gasps and pokes his chest with her finger.

"Had she been on Olympus, I could have protected her!"

"The threat came from Olympus!" Seriously, you literally are in the same room with them. How are you still treated like you are not present? Are you wearing the Cap of Invisibility?! Thea is almost as tall as him, and it seems there going to be a barney if you don't step in. Once it comes to punches, you are seriously not sure who is in more trouble.

"Thea, can I have a word with you in my room?" She is glaring at the smith, who has knots of muscles on his jaw. "Thea!" She jerks her chin up and turns to you. Filippo rushes and opens the door for you two. Thea gives him a small smile, although still a cold one, and follows you to the stairs.

At the last moment she turns and proclaims, "So long, suckers! Next time you get bored of your lives, give me a call and I'll come and kill you!" She spins on her heels and stomps after you. Gods, are you also that difficult?


	12. Chapter 12

She plops on your bed, and you stand in front of her glaring. "Who else knows, Thea?" She is pouting. "Thea?" Your voice drops menacingly, and she sighs, giving in.

"No one, not even Temmy. The old man told me, and we decided to keep it this way so far," she is after all the goddess of military strategy as well. You nod and sit near her. "Any ideas who did this?"

You shake your head. Your favourite roses, under your window... And then a sudden thought comes to your mind.

"How's Ares doing these days, Thea?" She looks at you confused. The wanker fell on the bushes. More so, he was all scratched. You didn't prick yourself or anything, the rose just touched your hair, and you almost popped your clogs. Was it poisoned after he left? That's about half an hour window of opportunity. The smith yelled at you, you came down, ate the grotty cheese, performed a fellatio on your honey covered finger, bugger, not thinking of what his face looked like at that moment, and then you picked up the rose. Whatever the smith's abilities are right now, you are still a goddess. You would have felt someone's presence. Mortal or not. Does it mean Ares was unaffected? Or does it mean the tosser did it?

Thea is studying your face. "He seemed bent out of shape but otherwise grand. Was he here recently?" Her thoughts obviously stray at the same direction. Out of all gods he seems to have the biggest problem with you marrying the smith. He doesn't take rejection well. And although killing you would be a calamity, no god is irreplaceable. After Hebe married Heracles, she gave up her duties and passed the office to Ganymede. Now you understand she was on a maternity leave. If anything to happen to you, Zeus will probably find a nice replacement for you. Some fit and definitely more compliant nymph. Who will be so grateful for the promotion and willing to express her gratitude in all possible positions!.. Yuck.

Or is it Hera? Let's face it, the bint hates you. Through centuries you've had a fair amount of scraps. With Paris and his apple, with the girdle, and again you have flipped off her baby boy. And now you are potentially giving a chance to her least favourite person in the universe to return to Olympus. Thea coughs carefully.

"Have you thought it might be the smith?" You look at her like she grew a pair of donkey ears. What the actual fuck?! "Bear with me, Phro. He needs you to marry him. And he knows you'd rather die than agree. So he poisons you and then saves your life, so you are all grateful and soppy, and throw yourself on his neck. And don't tell me I didn't walk on you almost snogging him in the kitchen. You had the misty eyes, and he was all leany. The sexual tension in that kitchen could be cut with a dagger!"

You give it a thought. As mad as you want this idea to sound, Thea has a point. Poisoning you in the house of a god who is proficient in healing poisoning is a bit daft. And you were ready to snog him in the kitchen. And you already had your kiss today. There is absolutely no valid reason for you to go for another snog. Except one. If you happen to fancy the tosser. You groan and fall back on the bed. Thea is looking at your with pity.

"Come back to Olympus with me, Phro," her voice is unusually soft. She is worried.

"I can't. I have a wager to win." You are the goddess of passion and fertility. One grotty attempt on your life isn't going to scare you off. Thea is giving you puppy eyes. You decisively shake your head, your curls splaying on the bed. She leans in and pecks your cheek.

"If anything happens, the littlest of things, give me a ring!" She tries to sound strict, but you know she is a big softie. You nod, and she disappears in a golden cloud.

As they say, keep calm and bash on. There is no point in wallowing in self-pity. You sit up and get to work. There is a pile of petitions and letters that accumulated on your window sill, and the work goes natty. Sometime just before dawn you are done and feeling restless. You open the door to your room and start going down the stairs, when you stumble over something warm and almost tumble down the stairs. You squeak and apparate into the kitchen. Some swearings and grunts are heard from the staircase, and you light up an oil lamp on the table and jerk the door open. The smith comes out into the light, blinking like an owl. What a berk! He fell asleep on the lookout on your stairs.

"Good to know that I am so well protected," your voice is sarcastic, and he has the audacity to look miffed. He fell asleep on the lookout!

"There was no point in this anyroad," he sounds grouchy and heavily sits on the chair. "Whoever planted and poisoned those roses managed to sneak by unnoticed by several gods in the house."

"Then what were you doing on my stairs?" He peevishly looks at you from under his brows.

"Will you believe me if I say that I got lost?" There is blush rising on his cheekbones. Oh you adorable numpty!

"Did you think this time they will decide to act less subtly and just club me to the head?" He is still glaring at you, and you suddenly feel chuffed. "Well, since you are up, do you want me to get you a brekkie?" He looks at you askew. He is so tense that you giggle.

"I still haven't gotten over your last treat, goddess." You wave your hand, and the table is set. He sighs dramatically and moves closer to the table. Common, we all know where lies the path to the man's heart. What the fuck? You are definitely not looking for any bloody path to any bloody heart! He picks up some tagenias and cheese but is still viewing you with suspicion. You sit in front of him and place your elbows on the table, your chin on your fists.

"Is it an aggro?" He jerks his brows up questioningly. Seriously, if he cleans up, you know, trim the beard, and get a haircut maybe, he might not be that bad… Thoughts out of the gutter, chick! You point at the food with your eyes. "The food. Being hungry. To depend on it all the times. Having this craving all the time..." He swallows and stares at his hands.

"Isn't any hunger a cage, goddess? You out of all people should know." He lifts his eyes at you, his stare heavy and dark, "Isn't your love sometimes called "theia mania", madness from the gods? Drives you bonkers, destroys your soul, makes you crave and rage, and commit horrible crimes…" You shift on your chair uncomfortably. Yeah, there was Phaedra… And for Ariadne it didn't end well.

"It's not how it is supposed to be." You sound very defensive. "People just arse it up all the time. They are greedy, self-centered, think only about themselves!.." He cocks a brow. Yeah, yeah, we all know what he thinks of your character. "And that's eros you are talking about! The physical love! And it's only one fourth of all love! There are four types, but they confuse eros with real stuff all the time! They think if they want to knob someone, that's love!" You make a scornful noise. "There is also phillia, it includes virtue, equality and familiarity, what you feel for your friends and family, you know?" You are heating up, and why are you even bloody telling him all that?! "It means having fun together, do stuff, you know? Like chariot rides on Sunday or something." He looks amused, but you don't give a shite anymore. "And there is agape, they always forget about it! The unconditional love, nothing in return, admiring another person. That's how they were supposed to love! Give themselves fully, appreciate each other! That's how they were supposed to love their spouses! That's why it's called a better half, for fuck sake! Because for you your partner is supposed to be better than you, the best person in the world, and not the moron you managed to tie a knot with or your bloody ball and chain!"

You realize that sometime in the middle of your spiel, you jumped up on your feet and now you are standing, gesticulating wildly, your hair in a mad halo around your head, cheeks flushed, while he is staring at you from his chair. Bollocks, what got your knickers in a knot?! He probably doesn't even care.

"And the fourth type?" His voice is raspy. You exhale and shift between your feet.

"The fourth what?"

"You said there were four types of love."

"Storge, the fourth type is storge," your voice is very quiet. "It is love for your children, committed, sacrificial and forgiving." You feel suddenly knackered and drop your bum on your stool. Right, you've been poisoned not that long ago. "They all think all I do is make sure everyone gets a proper amount of shagging. But I'm responsible for this love too. They never love their children enough, you know?" Shut up, Aphrodite! You can't even look at him, you are staring at your hands. "They bring them to this world, and then don't love them enough. What kind of a heartless monster would do it?! And then they grow up without knowing how to do it. How to love… And not just how to love each other, they don't love anything. Their life is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. They don't appreciate art, don't see the beauty around them, the nature, the flowers, the birds in the sky, even clothes and furniture… It is so ugly it hurts." You lift your eyes at him and meet his burning stare. "I know you think I am a bitch, I get it. But you don't understand what it does to me. Seeing all this mankiness around me. The world can be so beautiful, but people just cock it up… I can't stand the dirt, and the ugliness, it hurts..." You press your fingers to your temples. "And they don't even see it. And they don't see each other… All they care about is satisfying their greed and hunger. Using each other, arsing up my work… Beauty exists in this world to make you a better person, clothes are to send a message to the world, statues, vases..." You feel tears running down your cheeks, there is something seriously wrong with your noggin today. Right, someone tried to bloody kill you a few hours ago.

How did he move so quietly again? He kneels in front of you and lifts your chin with his index finger. You blink and stare in his bright blue eyes.

"I am sorry," his eyes are warm and compassionate, the voice low and soft. What is he all about?

"For what?"

"For not changing my shirt every day," the corners of his lips are twitching. What?! "For making you stay in the manky dusty attic. For making you sit through my grotty meals. For stealing your bath." His face grows serious. "For thinking you are a heartless bitch. For not appreciating what you do. For blaming you for what has happened to me." What?! You are so narked by his closeness that it takes a few moment to realize what he is saying.

"What?!" He swallows, his throat moves, and you stare at his lips. He presses his forehead to yours.

"Everything that went wrong in my life happened because of love. Hera loved Zeus too much, she didn't love me enough, and if Thetis hadn't fallen in love with me, I would still be working in those forges..." You seriously haven't gotten a cue what he is talking about, but one thing catches your attention. Thetis, the skinny Nereid? That bitch! Wait, what? Are you bloody jealous? That is so mental, you need to snap out of it, you need…

He moves slightly away and looks you in the eyes. "Do you forgive me, goddess?"

"I have a name, smith," your tone is still peevish. He had a fling with that minger! Wait, did he or did he not? He smiles slightly.

"Yeah, I am aware. But what kind of name is it, "born in foam"? You are not very foamy, are you? Nothing soft and fluffy about you," he is teasing you, what a tosser!

"I can be very soft and fluffy! I am the fluffiest one you've ever met!" He chuckles and leans in. His lips are almost at your mouth, and you close your eyes. Let it be a good one, let it be a good one!..

It is. He is tender, and you sigh in his mouth. His hands slide on your shoulder blades, and he pulls you slightly closer. He is still very gentle and considerate, and you arch, molding into him, your arms wrap around his neck. He smells like black cardamom, and soap, and sunlight, and a bit like smoke. It's probably from the forge, and it is brill! He is so warm and large, and you press closer. You are nipping on his soft lips, tasting and savouring, and he moans. Your head starts spinning, and a strange piercing feeling wakes up in your chest. Your breathing speeds up, your pulse booming in your ears, and oh no! Panic kicks in! Oh no, it is eros, phillia and agape! The Molotov cocktail of love! You are all or nothing type of girl, aren't you, Aphrodite?! You just bloody had to fall for him! The pearly pink swirls of your own magic uncoil in your heart, pushing on it from inside, making it hurt, fill it with the emotions you have never known before, and it contracts for the first time, full of your blood with its new composition, the love for him written into its code, the poison of your love for him sprays into your veins, and the blood rushes through your whole being, spreading the magic. And it hurts, gods, it hurts so much! You push away from him, clenching your tunic on your chest.

"Poulaki?" He sounds worried and tender, but you try to move away from him. You slide on the floor off your chair, he tries to support you, but his hands are like fire, burning, charring you, and you scamper away from him. You are taking sharp spasmodic breaths in. Oh no, no, no, not this… So much feelings, so raw, so ovewhelming, so painfully sharp… You are panting on the floor, the smith kneeling in front of you, frowning from concern and confusion. This must be bloody Thursday. You never could get the hang of Thursdays.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you, ****my darlings****, my loveliest of readers, for all your reviews! I love you! You are the kindest and most generous readers a (not so ace of a) writer can wish for! **

**But where are the quotes? :)**

**A/N#2: ****Drakos4****, thank you for the confirmation and welcome to the story! Here, have a virtual hug from me ](^_^)][ (^.^)[ (I had to google a hug emoticon :)**

"I am alright, alright..." You need to get away from him, you need to clear your head. He is still kneeling near you, one hand stretched to you. Bollocks, he is like a magnet, you fingers are twitching. And a few muscles in your body apparently have a bloody imagination of their own. And they are screaming. Hug him, hug him, he is so warm, you'll like it! Of course you will bloody like it! Have you seen him? Wait, just three days ago he seemed manky! Are you completely and utterly bonkers?!

"Poulaki..." His tone is so concerned. Oh my loving cuddly duckie! What?! Are you fucking out of your bloody mind, Aphrodite?! Get your glorious arse away from him and reevaluate your 'tude, chick! And what's with the bird name?

You exhale sharply and school your face in a pleasant smile. You also move a wee bit away from him. So that the heat from his body caused slightly less drooling. "I am alright… Just suddenly faint. I should probably lie down. Maybe have a lie-in, you know… Poisoning and stuff..." You are literally backing off from him shuffling on your bum. He cocks a brow. Fuck. You give him another plastic smile and apparate into your attic.

And on top of Hades. Seriously?! What the fuck?! Will there be any privacy for you in this blasted house?! No, you seriously are not ready for another one of them wankers. You jump off him and yell, "Get out, get out! Not interested! No!"

He is reminiscent of a starfish on the floor and starts flailing his arms, trying to take a more dignified position, you did pretty much flatten him. He picks up the silver tails of his long robe and fixes the ate up tiara he has on his head. What the fuck is he wearing?! His haughty posh face is peevish, and he straightens up in his impressive height. "Some may imagine that your cheeky attitude is charming, but I myself suspect a more prosaic explanation. Spoilt and self-centered goddess temperament." Oh gods, will you see any peace? Seriously, you just realized you are in love, you have collywobbles, you honestly just want to lie down!

He locks his hands behind his back. Did anyone ever tell him that he is ridiculous? The eyesbrows, the barmy eyes, and what's with the silver bathrobe and the dead twigs that are sticking out of his head? Are those berries? The bloke has serious issues. And he has a small pecker. Not that you were checking for yourself, but it's in his file. Persefone asked for his records. Didn't stop her from fancying him. Something tells you he is not here about her.

"You are in trouble, goddess. You have been offered an ultimatum. You seek that which will allow you to avoid the undesired marriage to the god of smithery." Can he be more stuffed up? And more wrong for that matter... Undesired my ass! "It is repugnant to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are godly responsibilities that I too despise. I offer you my help." Is this widening of his eyes and not blinking supposed to be impressive? Because it just looks like he is very, very high and is desperately trying to hide it from his strict parents by speaking very, very clearly and very, very slowly.

"Not interested."

"I will help you if you but agree to be mine." Is he deaf?

"Not bloody interested."

"Like one god to another." You plug your ears and start loudly chanting "la-la-la." He seems to continue talking but thankfully you can't hear his annoying poncy voice. He looks even more daft now that you don't have the soundtrack to his mad facial expressions. You unplug your ears.

"...Patient, I can wait." Are you supposed to hit this one with a ball of magic as well? You are so knackered. And you feel sort of sorry for the tosser. He is still talking, but you start softly pushing him towards the door.

"...Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads..."

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say," you open the door and push him out to the staircase.

"...The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but there in my kingdom, we will endure..."

"Sure thing. And thank you! Loved the chat. Toodlepip!" You close the door to his very surprised face and fall on your bed. You enjoy a few minutes of blissful silence when there is a knock at your door. For fuck sake! Who hasn't propositioned you in the last few days? Apollo? Poseidon? That one-eyed one-armed bloke that checks cloaks at Zeus's feasts? You growl and jerk the door open. The smith is standing on your doorstep with a slightly amused, polite expression on his face. Oh he can actually knock now!

"Sorry to bother you, but a very confused god of the underworld just walked through my kitchen mumbling under his nose like a madman. What's that all about?"

You are really trying not to ogle him. Epic fail. Oh gods, it is getting worse. Now you are fantasizing about pulling this shirt off him and getting your hands on this delectable chest. Agape, the unconditional love thing, sort of retreated in the corner whimpering pathetically, and eros, the randy, get-into-his-pants part of your feelings for him rejoiced. Pull yourself together, chick. It is the manky smith! The brute, the barbarian, the insensitive, unsophisticated, uneducated pig… Why is it so hot in here? The arsehole they are forcing you to marry… Oh yes, please! And the wedding night ASAP please! Maybe you don't even have to wait till the wedding. There is this nice round bed, right over there…

"Aphrodite?" His question shakes you out of your daydreaming. And no, you were not imagining licking his neck! Bollocks.

"Huh? What? Oh Hades. I'm not sure. He is positively barmy, you know," you twirl your finger at your temple. "Hard to say what he is rattling about. I am seriously concerned for his noggin to be honest. It's vitamin D deficiency obviously. Have you seen his clobber? Totally bonkers!" And then you realize he is not listening. He is staring at your mouth. Oh oh… "Smith?.."

He makes a giant step ahead and very deftly picks you up under your bum. Wow that's smooth! In one fluid movement he manages to get into your room, press his mouth to yours, mamma mia, hot, hot, hot, somehow convince your legs to wrap around his waist, and place you on the bed, one of his scorching palms under your neck, goosebumps galloping down your spine, another palm cups your face, and oh yes please! His delicious weight presses you into the sheets, and you moan into his mouth. He spends a few moments snogging you senseless and then suddenly stops. He presses his palms into the bed, his arms caging your head, and he lifts his torso above you. Since you were actively continuing to play tonsil hockey with him, you get lifted for a mo in the air, and then with a sound that a cork makes when pulled out of an amphora you detach from him and fall back on the bed. He is breathing heavily and closes his eyes. "I am sorry… That was uncalled for… I should have asked..."

Oh he is such a darling! But yes, bad, bad Hephaestus! Never do it again! Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, and you are momentarily considering wiggling your pelvis a bit. Just to find out if additional friction will make his cock even bigger. Hardly possible though. It is bloody immense. Makes sense, since he is to marry the goddess of shagging. Wait, what?! You quickly untangle from him and rolls from under his delicious, mouth-watering, mind-blowing… Shut the fuck up, Aphrodite's fanny! Just yesterday you propelled Ares through the wall for even considering something of the sorts, and now you are all but cheering to the smith for groping you without any consideration for your desires! Although your grabbing handfuls of his hair and rubbing some sensitive spots onto him was hardly possible to misinterpret. Oh bugger, you really need to reevaluate your life right now.

You sit up on the bed, while he is still in some awkward semi-reclined position on it. "Was Hades here to propose as well?" Well, that explains all the sudden rumpy-pumpy. And no, you are not embarrassed to use this phrase. Even when it comes to the huge, randy as hell smith with his massive arms and giant… ahem. Still rumpy-pumpy. And when exactly did you manage to unclasp the fibula on his shoulder and unwrap his chlamys? There is only a thin tunic left on him and the outline of his pectoral muscles makes you very, very distracted from his outright neglecting of your right to freely govern your body and marital status. And still, boo to the chauvinistic pig!

"I'm not certain you have any right to ask."

"I do. No one comes to chat up my future wife. You should have called me." And here you were, forgetting for a second why you even made that wager with Zeus! He is giving you a peevish stare, and you are wondering if knocking him out now will last till tomorrow's midday so you will be able to skip at least one brekkie and one supper with him. Because you reckon that if you give him a black eye now, the next few meals will be bloody awkward.

"Whether I am indeed your future ball and chain is still to be determined, smith." He sits his back to the wall and stretches his endless legs. He looks very smug. Wanker.

"Well, if you still prefer to act hardheaded, sure, carry on, but let's face it," he looks at you from under his bloody hiked up brow and brushes the tips of his fingers along your forearm. It immediately covers in goosebumps. "At this point you are just being stroppy for the sake of the game. Not that I mind, it's very tidy," he leans in and kisses your shoulder. Nope, not working anymore.

"So, let me get this straight. You are certain we are to tie the knot, and now that it seems to be less of an aggro between us you pretty much feel like you won a lottery." He runs his eyes over your body and smirks lopsidedly. Oh that is how it is, you sexist moronic tosser of a pig!.. No offense to pigs. You get up on all four and crawl towards him. You are certain he has a nice view of your tits through the cut of your tunic. Judging by the hungry look and dilated pupils. "Well, I'll tell you what, smith," you straddle him, and his hands immediately lie on your buttocks, "If you think Zeus's word and the fact there is a pecker and not a fanny between your legs give you any right to these," you cup your tits, "and what your grabby dukes are groping at the moment, you're cruelly mistaken." His eyes are twinkling.

"Are you going to pretend you are not enjoying this?" He gives your arse a nice squeeze. Oh you are so going to cock up his smug clock!

"I am. But that gives you a right for only one thing," you lean to his ear, "A hope that I might let you go on. Otherwise, you are just like everybody else here, smith. A potential visitor to my fanny." You move away and give him a cold stare. His jaw is clenched, and he pushes you off his lap.

"Suit yourself, goddess," he jumps off the bed and heads for the door. "Do whatever you want with your fanny. I am not interested in standing in a queue. For me you are just a ticket upstairs." He gives you an haughty look, which you meet with the same expression. Adrenaline is pumping through your blood, but you've seen enough birds allowing their men walk all over them. You are not a daft bint to be treated this way! He slams the door behind him, and you fall back on the bed.

He doesn't call you in the evening, and you assume he decided to skip his dinner. Thusly concludes Day Four. You spend the night reading up on the smith. He doesn't have a file but all the ruffle that Thetis, the sea nymph went through to save his arse and care for him is right here. Tending to him after his fall, healing his wounds, giving him a job in the forges, her heartbreak, and consequent marriage to Peleus… No wonder, you don't remember the story, no love or much consensual shagging was involved in her marriage. She gave birth to Achilles, and the smith forged him a shield and armour. Probably still feeling guilty for her gammy heart. Much good it did. And what does it tell us? That he tends to use women as tools in achieving his goals and then throw them aside like some rubbish? Perhaps.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: But Bianca Del Rio is not British! :)**

Day Five is reaching its sunset, and you are in a complete panic mode. You need your snog! The problem is that your goddess ESP, aggravated by your nervy state, tells you he hasn't been in the house all day. That is an elegant decision, you won't argue. If you can't leave the house and he is not eating in it, then you are technically not missing his meals. There is some benefit in Zeus's sodding red tape. But you are spun out! Bugger, bugger, bugger… You hear the entrance door bang, and you rush downstairs somehow forgetting that apparating would be faster. He is standing at the doors, rainwater pouring off his cloak. The sun is red and low at the horizon, and you really have no time for a prelude. You run up to him and hang on his neck. The last thing you see is his gobsmacked eyes, and you press your mouth to his. Your head fills with buzzing and the intoxicating smell of his skin, but you know the bloody proceedings! He will snog you for a mo and then will push you away. You are prepared, you made sure there is no sodding furniture behind you. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer and sighs into your mouth.

And then he presses you tighter and hides his face in your hair. "Gods, I needed this..." His voice is hollow and broken, and you tense. Bloody fuck, this is going all wrong. Retreat, retreat! Real emotion alert! Do not engage! Be a smart girl, Aphrodite, apparate out of his hands into your attic and hide there until his breakfast. You stroke his wet hair and press your cheek to his temple. With the second hand you rub his nape, easing the tension in his muscles. And then you realize that the water, dripping on the floor from his clothes, is suspiciously red. You step away from him and realize he is not standing very firmly.

"Hephaestus? What?..." He sways, and you push your shoulder to him for support. He tries to lean away, but you grab his shoulders.

Your goddess feelings are tingling, and you yell, "Killilos! Filippo!" He tries to object, but he is too weak for his usual bossiness. The door to the forge bursts opens, and they rush in. The three of you move him on the bed, and you pull off the chlamys. Fuck, these are deep cuts. You are shaking, your tunic all manky and drenched, blood and something black spread all over it. And you know the pattern. These are the wounds from the labryses of the cyclops. He is drained, his eyes sunken, and you look at his nephews. They are pale but you realise they don't look surprised.

"What the fuck is going on?" They are hiding their eyes.

"It's nothing," he tries to sit up on the bed, blood gushing from a deep laceration on his side. "Go back to your attic… They know what to do..."

"But uncle, it's worse than before, you have never been hurt so much," Killilos sounds scared, "Perhaps she can help, she is a goddess after all..."

"I said no!" The smith barks and clenches his jaws. "Leave her out of it. Go to the forges, get the balm." The boys disappear, and you start pulling off his clothes. He weakly tries to batter your hands away, but you are ignoring him. You are biting into your bottom lip so hard that you can taste ichor.

"Aphrodite… It's nothing..."

"Shut your gob. Before I got so angry that I ended you in myself. Don't want to tell me anything, don't. I don't give a shite..." You realize you are crying, but you don't care! You bloody don't! "I'll help you now, and I will see you at the breakfast!"

"Aphrodite..."

"Don't talk to me, smith! You are right, you have no obligations towards me, I am not your wife, I don't even like you particularly, so just..." You jerk off his tunic and gasp. "Are these the teeth marks of Charybdis?!" Bloody Hades, his back is a bloodied mess. You push down rising sick and grab the buckle on his belt.

"Leave me some dignity, poulaki," his voice is suddenly soft, "I can take off my own trousers." You jerk your chin up.

"Don't be daft, you can't lift your arms. It's not like I'll see anything bloody new in there!" He chuckles and closes his eyes. You undress him and help him lie down on his stomach. You feel Killilos's presence, and he pushes a jar of balm into your hand. You can smell yarrow and feverwort in it. And a jolly big amount of Asclepius's magic. You give Killilos a dark stare, and he makes himself scarce. Under your palms the wounds on the smith's body start closing, and you see his face relax. You cover him with the skins on his bed and sag on the floor near it.

You are grotty, covered in his blood and what you now understand is soot and the monsters' blood. You can smell seasalt and coal on your hands. You look down at your toga. It is ruined. Tears start running down your face again. What the fuck did you get yourself into? You are getting down from the adrenaline coursing your veins, your whole body shaking. You were shocked to realise that seeing him hurt made you… furious. And blood thirsty. Given a chance you would tear anyone who touched him in shreds, while just yesterday you were ready to bite his head off. You rub your temples. Is it what it is like? To love somebody? You can't live with them, you can't bloody live without them. He stirs on his bed and pushes his arm under his head so he can see you better. You continue staring ahead, ignoring his attempts to catch your eyes.

"Poulaki..."

"Don't call me that. No bloody pet names. I'm not your doxy." You are stroppy, and you don't care. You bloody don't! You don't care about the sodding smith! You don't. You sniff and sit straighter. You should leave, but you can't move a muscle.

"Cyclops used to help me in my forges on Olympus," his voice is quiet and even. "But I'm not a god anymore, I guess they have issues with my authority… Sometimes they bring mates… But I still have to work with them when the tide in their cave is low. Hera's orders."

You slightly turn your head and look at him from a corner of your eye. His face is dirty and tired. There is a deep gash on his right cheekbone, and you scoop some balm on your palm and slap the side of his face. He blinks and hikes up his brows in surprise. You go back to staring ahead.

"Aphrodite..."

"What did you do? Why does she hate you so much?" He shuffles on the bed. You don't move. He sighs, and you get up without looking at him. The message is clear. You are leaving.

"Please, stay..." His large hand catches yours, and he pulls you down. You flop on the same spot, your eyes on the opposite wall. He sighs again. "She never particularly liked me. She was hoping to have revenge on Zeus by her solo birth, but I don't quite measure up to her expectations. She wanted a better version of Ares and got me..." You take slow measured breaths in. "I am a reminder for her that she is nothing without him. She doesn't particularly enjoy this thought. Did you know that she never cheats on him? Goddess of marriage after all." He chuckles darkly.

You look at your hands and nod. Of course you do, you are the goddess of shagging. You know all their dirty secrets. She uses the girdle, there might be some copping off for her, but no more than that. Must be hard, loving a man knowing that you are sharing him literally with half universe. The smith shifts, stretching some muscles in his back with a grunt.

"Did you hear of Tiresias, poulaki?" Of course you did. The prophet of Apollo, there was some sex change there, long story. Most famous for stating that in sex a woman receives ten times more pleasure than a man. Hera took his vision for that.

"Wasn't Hera the one who turned him into a woman? For hitting her pet snakes or something?" You are still industriously studying the wall in front of you. What? It's fascinating. Lovely cracks and stains on it. Yuck. Grotty.

"Oh, is that the official version?" The smith snorts. "Well done Hermes, perfect state propaganda. Nothing of Hera deciding to play for the other team then?" You sharply turn your head and look at him. "Yep, goddess, I'm surprised you didn't know. Tiresias still said no to her, by the way. And then seven years later, since now he was familiar with both sides of the process, he was asked to judge the argument between Hera and Zeus, on who gets off better, and he didn't back her up." She must have been gutted. But what does it have to do with the smith? You are frowning, studying his face. "Zeus walked on them, when Hera was attempting to knob the newly turned Tiresias. And Zeus Almighty decided to join them. That was the last drop for her. She went mad and tried to kill him." You are staring at the smith, whose face is almost expressionless. "I tried to stop her, to protect her, you know? No one chooses their mother, but allowing him to finally have a good reason to end her… Can you imagine how convenient it would be? He can't divorce her, she'll snatch half of Olympus, and here is his chance. Tidy little case of self-defence. One lightning bolt, and he is a free man." You don't notice yourself how your hand lies on his upper arm. His face is very close, cheek pressed onto the back of his hands, and you gently stroke his scorching skin. "He threw me off the mountain. And she never forgave me. For seeing her like that, for not measuring up to Zeus's favourite heir, and mostly for betraying her… I was dragging her off him, and she told me to kill him… Said if I still wanted to have a mother, I would strike him. And I refused." He is staring somewhere in the distance. "Sometimes I hate her, and I think how convenient it would have been for her, had we started that fight. One of us would have died, her life would have improved anyroad. And then I pity her. You were right when you said that people arse up their chance for happiness in love, but gods have it worse… We feel more, love more, hate more…" You are both silent for a few minutes.

"Are those scars from the fall?" He stirs out of his contemplation.

"I was born limp. Since I wasn't Zeus's son, he didn't allow Asclepius to assist the delivery. I wasn't a proper god from the start. She had me alone and nearly bled to death. I didn't come out very pretty, did I? And when I fell… Well, as they say, hard cheese… The same leg and hip, the Nereids helped me, but they are lousy healers..." He looks at you and presses his lips to your knuckles. "I worked in their forges, and everything seemed grand... Olympus was far away, a long forgotten mountain, and Thetis and Eurynome, the leading Nereids became my friends… They helped me, nursed me to health as much as they could, and then..."

"Then you were supposed to marry Charis, Eurynome's daughter, I read the file. But Thetis was in love with you, and she made sure they threw you out." You turn away from him again and fold your hands on your lap. "And you blame me for all this."

"No, poulaki. I don't. Not anymore."

"You should," you drop your head back and look at the ceiling. "At some point I probably skimmed through Thetis's application and declined it. I can almost imagine her letter. _Beloved Goddess, Lady of Cyprus, please send me love of the man who deserves me, strong and noble, he who will take care of me. _What do you think happened after that, smith?" He is silent. "I was probably busy, something so bloody important, a rave with Bacchus or something, or maybe I had a shopping trip to Lemnos with Thea, and I declined it without looking. Had I given her your love, you would still be in those caves, and she would be nursing your sons." You turn your head and look into his burning eyes. "Tell me everything that happened is not my fault."

"It's not, little one, we all make our choice. She chose to be bitter about it, just like Hera chooses to stay with Zeus, and you are forgetting the most important thing," you feel his heavy hand on your shoulder, "Your magic only works if the love already lives in the heart. You couldn't have made me love Thetis even if you wanted."

You look him straight in the eyes, "You are underestimating me, smith. I can make you fall in love with that chair over there. Wouldn't that be a happy marriage?" He guffaws.

"Well, definitely a more peaceful one that we are going to have." His eyes are laughing, and you make a scornful noise.

"You are out of your bloody mind! I am not marrying you!"

"Of course you are," his voice drops, all honey and smoke, and you tense. He shifts and cups your face. "Of course you are marrying me, little goddess. You are in love with me." You open your mouth to tell him to sod off, but he picks you up under your arms, rolls on his back and pulls you on top of him. You squirm trying to escape, and he guffaws again.

"You are only making me more interested in convincing you," he tilts your head with his thumb and index finger under your chin, and his lips press to your throat, "If you want me to stop, you really shouldn't wiggle your fit little backside in the air and rub onto me." His second arm goes around your waist, and it is like there is forge inside you. Precisely between your legs. Oh bollocks, where is you sodding self-control, Aphrodite?!

He rolls again, this time you end up under him, and why aren't you still doing anything? Like apparating away, or for fuck sake even reciprocating? Instead you are soft and compliant in his hands, allowing him explore you with his lips and palms, your pulse deafeningly throbbing in your ears.

And then you shake the bloody stupour off and attack. You grab his ears, guide his mouth to yours and squeeze his hips in the circle of your legs. He gasps, and his hips buck into you. That's more like it! You are groping each other, both greedy and forceful, and then his teeth clank on the clasp on your shoulder. That sobers you up again! Bugger, you are completely bladdered! You push him away, and he growls because you are not letting him pull the toga off your shoulder. "No, stop, I am not sleeping with you like this! Not before the bath!"

"Oh forget a bath!" He nips on your neck, and you jump up. "Can we not do it again?.. I am dying here. We will take a bath later… I promise…"

"No," you push him harder, and that slows him down.

"Listen, what's your problem?" He looks very peevish, although still very randy, lips pink and swollen, hair sticking out. "I get it, you are neat. But can you just ignore it one time, alright? I'll build you the biggest bath on Olympus later. You can live in it if you want, but can we already shag? I'm going to explode here."

Two thoughts come to your mind. A. Is he trying to buy sex with you by promising you a bloody bathtub? Really?! And B. No way in Hades you are having your first time in a dirty bed, covered in blood, balm, soot, cyclop goo and gods know what else. No, you demand fucking rose petals, candles and all this shite! And talking! You need to talk first! You push him off and sit up.

"No. I mean it. No," you poke his chest with your finger, and he goes mad. Right in front of your eyes his eyes go livid, and he snarls.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Did you make all your lovers take a bath before fucking you? Honestly, your bath upstairs has seen more action than this bed! Ares, Bacchus, Hades… Who else marched through that cozy little round bed you have in the attic?" Oh, it is more painful than the poisoning. You again can't breathe, but it is million times worse. Your hands start shaking, and his face swims before your eyes... It is so not fair… You lift your hand to slap him and then freeze. What else did you expect him to think, Aphrodite? It's not like you anyhow signaled to him that you take shagging seriously. And you are literally the goddess of sex. How is he to know?

You lower your hand and move a bit away from him. Breathe, Aphrodite, breathe! You can do it. You ground yourself, clench your fists and lift your eyes to his. He is fuming, but that doesn't matter now. This is your moment, your decision. Tell him the truth and make it more than just a bonk. Leave him here to wank on his own and keep your legend intact. Tell or not to tell, that is the question...


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: ****Gemini-6989****, you do know that you can leave several reviews for one chapter, right? So if you happen to have something to say, don't be shy (said in my best Smaug voice:), go back to the chapter and leave another comment. And I LOVE YOU for this quote! Oh his voice… I'm a whimpering puddle of adoration on the floor at the moment :)**

You take two careful breaths in, through the excruciating pain in your chest, and pull yourself together. "I won't sleep with you, smith. And you know why?" He is breathing heavily and is glaring at you. "Two reasons," you show him two fingers, and his jaws clench harder. "Firstly, you think you get to decide. What happens to me, whom I will marry, what I do to my body. You thought you had a right to come and snog me to stake your claim after you thought poor sod Hades stepped on your territory. You think you are entitled to me. You might appreciate what I do more these days, but sure as hell you don't respect me. And two," you feel calmer. Good girl, Aphrodite. Breathe through it. "You think I'm a slag. And it's not so much a problem because you are wrong, as it is a problem because you think you can judge. That it is somehow your business again. That the amount of people that went through my bed determines my worth as a person, as a goddess."

You climb off his bed and wave your hand in the air. You feel like you are shedding your old skin. You need to do it, to save yourself. It hurts so much... The manky tunic disappears, and a new toga, pearly pink, one shoulder naked, hugs your glorious curves. Heavy turquoise necklace lies on your clavicles, golden sandals, heavy golden bracelets and an elegant comb in your hair, you are the beauty personified. You straighten up, proud and calm. Your skin is radiant, and your copper curls scatter on your shoulders, glowing and shiny. You exhale slowly and look at him again. He has an unreadable expression on his face.

"I will be in my attic, call me when it's breakfast time. And remember, there are only five days left. And you are out of the quod."

"What happens in five days, goddess?" His voice is hollow and disinterested. He is not deceiving anybody here.

"I will go back home." You bite your bottom lip and give it a thought. "And you will too. I'll make sure of it. I'll talk to Zeus, I have enough dirt on him to get you your ticket upstairs. No terms and conditions applied. I think it's fair." You nod and apparate in your attic.

You sit at your klismos and try to figure out what exactly it is that you are feeling. The answer is nada. You are numb. You stare at the pile of letters on your table. And realise there seems to be a problem. You are not getting the vibe. You carefully open the top one and read. _"My beloved goddess, I am writing to you to ask for your help. A young shepherd named Dimitri walks by my window every morning..." _You carefully listen to your goddess ESP. Nothing… Strange. You are supposed to be feeling what the bird is feeling, all randy and giddy, admiring his locks and buttocks, and having kittens and all that. You read the letter, typical young love, pure and very, very full of hormones. And nothing… You are like a bloody statue of yourself. Cold and unmoving. You take the next letter. Nothing again. Another… Nothing. Null. Nowt. No joy, no pain, no longing, nothing… It feels barmy. Like you are empty.

You carefully listen inside. Silence. Oh, that is actually not that bad. Feels rather grand actually. You are in deep shite work wise obviously, but let's face it, people don't listen to you anyroad. You are like those agony aunts on the agora. People ask them how to knob their boss or keep their husband from shagging their next door neighbour, and then never follow the advice. You might as well answer whatever comes to your mind, no one really cares.

You ignore the letters and pick up the parchment with the new tragedy by Euripides. You snuggle up on your bed with a bowl of fruit and a wee bit of wine, but it quickly feels dull. And to think of it, you cried over his previous book. Hm, mental. You pick up Plato's new dialogue and don't notice how the morning comes. Let's face, the bloke is a boffin, but the text is ace.

There is a careful knock at your door, and you get up, continuing your reading, and open the door without lifting your eyes. You know it's the smith because it feels like you are standing near a stove. You look up and see his very cautious eyes. It's actually funny. Is he afraid of you? But let's face it, you were acting kind of mental yesterday. You give him a polite smile and go down the stairs. He follows, tense and quiet. The brekkie continues pretty much the same way. You are chewing your fruit, you transported the bowl with you, and reading your parchment. He hardly touches his food. His stare is actually a wee bit of an aggro, and you sigh.

"Is there something you want to ask?" Your tone is very polite. You look at him over the top edge of the parchment, meet his blue eyes and… nada. Hm. That feels funny. Not as in LOL ROFL as they write on those murals, more like different from before. But again, change is good, right?

"Has something happened?" His eyes are roaming your face. Seriously, the bloke is all pins and needles. Should you tell him you were in love with him yesterday, lost the plot and turned off your love engine? Nah. That'll just cheese him off, and who needs it, right?

"No, everything is ace. Why?"

"You seem different." Hm. Well, he seems different too. Yesterday he was the most gorgeous man in the universe, and you so much wanted to love him, to take care of him and have his babies that you thought your heart would explode. And today he just seems like a fine chap.

You hum noncommittally. "New hair maybe?"

"No. It's not the hair. It's your eyes," he is studying them, and you pop a raspberry in your mouth. Seriously, what's his problem? You are feeling grand. Better than you have for a while. Perhaps, better than ever. Your whole life you had to feel what others felt. Heartbreak, jealousy, unrequited love, grief after the loss of a loved one. And this... This is wicked. Complete and utter peace. He gets up from his chair, walks around the table and suddenly jerks you up, clenching your upper arms in his massive hands.

"What have you done?!" What's he so gutted about?

"Nothing."

"Nothing?! You turned off your heart, you daft cow! Why would you bloody do that?" Wow, cut down the decibels, git. You are seriously a wee bit deaf on your right ear from his screams. He is also slightly shaking you, and you might get sick from all this turbulence.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Conjure me a bird!"

"What?!"

"I said conjure me a bird. Now!" Alright, alright, no need to yell. You wave your hand and nothing happens. Ooops. Strange. That actually feels wonky. Why isn't it working? You were fine with transporting fruit.

"You negated your creative magic, little birdie," his tone is sarcastic, and you feel a wee bit worried. Not much, it's like he is scraping on the surface of your psyche, but it is kind of a grotty feeling. You think you want him to stop.

"Oh I am sure it's nothing, just a glitch. Maybe I just need to lie down."

"Or maybe you lost all your power."

"Oy, no need to be all hoity toity with me. I am grand. Never felt better."

"And yet you can't even conjure a bird."

"Oh bugger off, what are you twelve?"

"I think you will agree I'm pretty eloquent and surprisingly tall for a twelve year old." He pushes you back onto your stool, drags his chair and sits on it in front of you. Yuck, feels like you are in Asclepius's office. "What did you do it for?"

What's his problem?! You don't even know what you did! You heard of it, like when Hebe gave up her powers to marry Heracles, but that certainly something different. But again, you are not even an Olympian, you were born of a Titan, you are a very ancient being. Obviously there are consequences of you rejecting what pretty much constitutes for your nature. Hm.

"I didn't do anything. I guess I was all cheesed off last night, and something happened." He narrows his eyes at you.

"What happened? And when exactly? When did you feel the changes?" Oy, is it _Who Wants to Be a Senator_?! What's with all the questions? You sigh. He makes you really uncomfortable with all this staring. You pensively chew on a slice of apple.

"We were in your bed, I got angry, got up and changed…"

"And?" Seriously, it's like he is trying to burn a hole in your head with those eyes of his. Gee, someone needs to chill out. And budge up. He is in your private space.

"And went back to my attic. There were letters there, but they were so dull. So I started reading. And that's it," you shrug and pick up the next slice.

"The petitions and the application you received were dull?" You nod. "And you didn't feel anything..." You shake your head. You are out of fruit, and you conjure a plum and start thoughtfully munch on it. "You can obviously move stuff, but can't create anything new. What upset you yesterday?" You sigh. Would he just leave you alone already? You still have two rolls of the new dialogue to read. Maybe if you answer his questions, he'll let you go back to bed. It is very comfy.

"I was upset that you didn't love me the way I loved you and thought that I'm a slag, while I haven't actually popped my cherry yet." You are done with the plum and deftly throw the pit into a rubbish bin by the wall. Yes, three points! Oh yeah, Aphrodite in da house! You turn your head and finally notice the smith's facial expression. His jaw is hanging very low, and his eyes have nearly popped out of his head. What was so strange about what you said? Gee… "Can I go back to my room now?" He is still staring at you with the same moronic aghast expression.

You pat his shoulder. "Listen, mate, it is quite obvious. I cocked up. My goddess thing, I probably turned it off. I was hurt, the unrequited love and such, because let's face, you were nowhere near fancying me the way I fancied you, so I lost my bottle and conked out somehow. But it's alright," you pat him again, "I am sure I can still perform properly at work. No one really cares about the whole unconditional love anyway, and I still have all my data," you tap your temple with your index finger, "All the positions and terms for shagging are here, so I'll manage."

He leaps ahead and presses you into him. Poor sod, he is obviously bedraggled. Someting got his knickers in a tie. He is stroking your hair. He is probably ruining the curls, but if it makes him feel better… You scratch your nose, his mane is tickling it, and hope he'll be done soon.

"I promise you, poulaki, I swear to you, I'll fix it." He moves you away and stares into your eyes again. Dull...

You rub his upper arm. "Sure thing. Lovely. Can I go back to my reading now? I have this lovely poem by Sapho to read. The ending is disappointing, but there is a lovely girl on girl action described in the middle." He lets you go. Is he crying? Gee, the bloke is obviously off his trolley. You smile to him and apparate into the attic. Right, where is your book and your favourite pillow? It has _The course of true love never did run smooth _embroidered on it_. _Yeah, you know, soppy, but it is just the perfect balance between firm and soft and it's Chinese silk. You settle down and between lovely descriptions of tits and bums and juicy, ripe slices of pineapple you forget all about the smith.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: My lovely ****A****, of course you shouldn't be embarrassed! It is wonderful that you wish the characters to be happy, rainbows and unicorns and stuff! Thank you for reading and reviewing! As for happy proceedings... I can be convinced… :) The only thing they still need a lot of growing up if they want any meaningful relationships between them, right?**

**A/N#2: Dear ****Lady Stardust on Mars****, perfect quote! Anything coitus-related fits into this story perfectly, doesn't it? ;) I was already done with this chapter when I got your review, so it'll go into the next one. Gives you a hope for a wee bit of coitus, innit? Muawahahaha :)**

**A/N#3: Quotes, please! :)**

The beat from Athenaeus's latest jam floods your attic from the magical seashell on your bedside table, and you are twirling your bum in the air. Hip to the right, thrust to the left, oh yeah! Let's face it, you are jolly bored. On a normal day you'd be having a knees-up with all the Muses, Bacchus loves to join in, randy berk, hoping for a nookie obviously, and then Thea would pop in… And what are you supposed to do these days? In a bloody attic smaller than the closet you keep your sandals in on Olympus? You gave your aggro a thought by the way. You are not bone-idle! Between brushing your hair and painting your toenails. You obviously need to bash on and survive the four and a half days you have left here, and you also need your five remaining snogs. Getting them shouldn't be a problem. The bloke was gutted yesterday through all this mushy talk about feelings. Probably fancies you or something. You throw your arms in the air and wiggle your hips. And then using a column like a dancing pole you wrap your leg around it and bending all the way backwards, you spin, your curls brushing the floor.

There are three loud knocks, and the door immediately opens. Upside down the smith looks even more daft, with his frowned eyebrows and a scowl. You are hanging from the column, your tunic around your thighs, and he gives you a dark glare. Such a Nobby no-mates! Gee… He steps aside and lets two more people into your attic. Seriously, since you became his lodger you see no privacy. You spin one more time and get off the column. Well, get down, there is no getting off for you these days. Right. He brought Asclepius and Eros with him. You give them a friendly wave and plaster a smile on your face. At least now you have someone to talk to.

"My goddess," Asclepius bows, and you smile to him. Eros is shifting between his feet by the door.

It's actually very funny, because most think he is this adorable chubby sprog-looking chap who flies around shooting arrows with hearts as their heads, sniggering adorably. In reality it is a short bloke with golden curls, very stroppy facial expression, and a very short temper. His nose twitches, and he looks at you from under his brows. You work well together, but right now he seems really bent out.

"Eros," you nod courteously, and he awkwardly returns a bow.

And immediately blurts out sounding very cheesed off, "You need to get back to work! The love world is a mess!" The smith and the healing god stare at him gobsmacked, but you are used to his bennies. "The lovers all over the world are barmy these days! Look at the state of relationships around! There's cheating dragged into almost every pair! They… They pillaged the orgy clubs. I'm not even going to tell you what they've done to their marriages, they all but destroyed the whole concept. I don't understand! What are they doing with their love lives?!" He is panting, bobbing on his tippy toes, and clenching and unclenching his fists.

This is so dull. You plop on your bed and cross your arms on your chest. "Oh don't fret, mate. Just let them enjoy their hanky-panky, and they'll be ace."

"See, what I mean?" The smith forcefully points at you with his massive hand. Rude, mate, really rude.

"I am afraid, I do," Asclepius sits on the bed near you and picks up your hand. He is staring into your eyes and then sadly shakes his head, "And I'm afraid I have to agree with Hephaestus here. She's hardly goddess material anymore." Well hello, she is sitting right here! He pats the back of your hand, "How are you feeling, my dear? Or to be more precise, what are you feeling?"

You yawn. "I'm bored. I have to stay here for another five days, and it's a bloody aggro. I want to go back. I need to buy new clobber, and I miss the dos. My friends, and the music, and the dancing..."

"And do you miss anyone specifically, dearie? Maybe there is someone special in your heart?" You give the old man a sceptical look. "Some nice bloke maybe? Or a lass?"

"If you are trying to find out if I fancy anyone, that would be him," you point at the smith. "At least it was until yesterday when he broke my heart. To think of it, that was probably what turned the goddess thing off." The smith looks jolly pale all of a sudden.

"That is very unusual. And very unfortunate." Asclepius shakes his head. "Love was her whole nature. Without it there isn't much left." You pout. What the hell is wrong with them? You are right here, in the same room with them. And you are ace!

"How do we fix it?" The smith's voice is tense, and he is eyeing you like you are one of those blobs of metal he is planning to hammer into proper shape.

"Well, that is why I suggested bringing our friend Eros here," Asclepius nods to Eros whose eyes immediately widen in panic.

"Me? No, no, no, I'm not a healer! I've never treated anyone in my life!" He starts flailing his hands and backing off.

"We don't need you to heal her, we need you to make her feel love again," Asclepius points at you, and it all suddenly seems rather iffy. You carefully move away from him on the bed. He grabs your shoulder with the speed and strength surprising for an old duffer. "Shoot her!"

What the fuck?! You really don't like this anymore.

"Hey, wait, what?" The smith doesn't seemed to be that chuffed by the idea either. Phew, at least one sane person here! "You don't know what it'll do to her. The arrows are for mortals!"

"And we all know that they work as a catalyst," the old geezer is still clenching your shoulder. You consider apparating, but he is keeping an eye on you. Tosser. "We know she is already in love, she told us so. We need to make her remember."

"It doesn't work this way!" Eros squeaks. "It is a delicate process." Delicate my ass. He is just a poor aim. Especially when pissed. "I have to hit the target, he needs to be the first man she sees, and there might be side effects!"

"She is love itself, laddie. She will be perfectly fine with just a wee bit of stimulation." Asclepius gets up and pulls you to stand, firmly holding you under your upper arm. You decide that the smith is the weak link here.

"Please," you make big sad eyes at him. "You can't just let them shoot me! It hasn't been tested on gods before."

Eros clears his throat, "Actually it's been tested on Apollo, Zeus and several others. Nothing bad happened." Nothing bad happened?! Are we talking about the same bloody gits?! Is he familiar with their relationships history?!

"I'm love personified! I might OD and explode, or something!" You are shrieky. There is doubt written on the smith's face. Well, it bloody should be! They are planning to perform a risky medical procedure on you! "Please, don't do this to me," you flutter your lashes at him, and he gulps.

"Common, laddie," Asclepius gives Eros an encouraging smile. "Do it now, with as much luck as you can muster."

"And you promise that she will be back to normal?" Eros is eyeing you, his nose twitching. Wait, he is not sure but he is already getting his sodding bow and arrow?!

"No, but I have very high hopes," Asclepius grabs your other shoulder and turns you to face Eros.

"That's what I thought..." Eros shakes his head. "You got the wrong god. I can't do it... And there isn't enough room to shoot a bow here anyway!"

"You don't need to shoot her, you dimwit." The smith sounds exasperated. Oh no, he is with them now! "Just poke her. But gently! Hurt her, and I will break every bone in your body."

Eros is momentarily distracted from his fretting and looks at the smith with disdain. "It won't hurt, it's not corporeal. It's a vector of emotional intention." Oh no, you bloody hate needles. You fainted during your Black Plague vaccination last year. You try wiggling out of the Asclepius's grabby dukes.

Eros is staring at the arrow in his hand, "No… No… You don't understand, none of you do, you're different gods! You're used to...to this life, to making decisions, to piercing people, never doubting, not considering any emotions! Love is the flower you've got to let grow. You can't just poke a person into it!"

"Oh sod it, give me this!" The smith grabs an arrow from his hands and steps towards you. Bugger! You try to bolt, but the old tosser is too strong!

"I would keep your eyes on Hephaestus, my dear. You don't want to suddenly fancy an old bloke such as myself," the god of healing's voice is mischievous. Panic, panic, panic! Wait...

"Wait! The kiss!" They all freeze and stare at you. You need to think quick. You need to buy some time. And that might be your chance to avoid losing the bloody bet at the same time. "How about something less invasive for starters? True love's kiss might work." You sound desperate and give the smith your best doe eyes. "Even if you don't love me, I loved you. Something might click." Common, let's kill two birds with one stone, although you would never end a fluffy darling. You'll get your snog and potentially avoid that small prick. And you don't mean the arrow.

"I suggest you try, laddie. There is no harm in giving it a shot." What's with all the bloody talk of shooting today?!

The smith makes a decisive step towards you, a golden arrow still clenched in his left hand. He cups the back of your head with the right one and presses his lips to yours.

Wow, the bloke is good. Advanced technique, just the right amount of pressure, lips unchapped and warm, breath fresh. He closes his eyes and pulls you closer. No tongue. Hm, going for an emotional kiss with just a dash of hardly controlled passion? Nice. Additional points for the way his fingers tangle into your hair, his palm warm and gentle on the base of your skull. Precise movement, inventive approach. Nice. Would you look at that! He is using the John Thornton manoeuvre now. Goes for the upper lip. 9.7 out of 10. Wonderful score for our Ancient Greek contestant.

He moves away, his eyes slightly dazed, and blinks. And then his stare is sharp again, and he is studying your face. You smile and try to look affected. Well, you guess you are a poor actress since he grabs your shoulder and jams the arrow into your left boob. You squeeze your eyes... but it doesn't hurt. Actually it doesn't feel like anything. You open one eye and have a peek.

All three of them have their eyes on you, Asclepius looks hopeful, the smith mistrustful, and Eros looks like he is going to conk out any moment. You look down at the arrow's shaft with cheerful pink fletchings sticking out of your chest. And then there is some wonky buzzing sensation in between your tits, the arrow dissolves, pink sparkles swirling and seeping into your body. It's not that bad, kind of ticklish.

"Well?" The smith gently touches your shoulder. "Poulaki?"


	17. Chapter 17

You jump slightly, wrap your arms around his neck, pull him down and press your mouth to his. Your body arches into him, heating up, buzzing energy running through every cell of your being making you moan into his lips. One of your hands pushes into the thick, silky, orgasmicly luscious hair on his nape, and my oh my he is delicious! You curl up the fingers on the other hand and rake his chest. And then you press your pelvis into him and rub very, very pointedly. He is not reciprocating, but let's be honest here, he is not fighting it either. The cautious cough from Asclepius makes him jerk and try to untangle from you. That might be a problem, mate. You are holding on to him for your dear life, and since he twisted his head out of the reach of your greedy mouth, you lick his neck. Purrr… Give me, give me, give me… Gimme some! Everything swims in front of your eyes, you are bloody weak from randiness. Smith, bed, now!

"Aphrodite..." The smith's voice is confused and choked. "What are you doing?"

"I am savouring," you are murmuring into his clavicles. Yum. "I want you… Can they go already?" Oh, gods, he is so fit! You run your hands over his upper body. Oh in the name of Zeus Almighty, the pectoral muscles, the stomach, the long muscles on his sides! You are going to O right here, right now! He is so wide, so hot, so everything!

"I think we made it worse," Eros's voice is raspy.

"No shit, Sherlock," the smith is trying to untangle out of your arms. He is being delicate, and thusly not very successful. You finally found the buckle on his belt, and click! Oh come to mamma! You know what's inside and you want it! Now! "What was in your bloody arrow?"

"The usual thing. Three main ingredients plus the possibility of the fourth. Love for children comes as a bonus with the purchase of the first three," Eros awkwardly jerks his braces. Since the smith is surprisingly determined to move you away from his kecks, what's that even about, you decide to go back to the upper half. Let's face it, it's fit as fuck! You manage to unlace the collar of his tunic and stick your nose into his chesthair. Purrrrr again. He is trying to stop your wandering hands, giving Eros a stinky eye.

"Laddie, are you sure it was not a pure eros in that arrow?" Asclepius is studying you. You have no time for their rattling. Your nose is full of the sweet smell of the smith's skin, and you are bladdered! He smells like brown sugar and spice, and let's face it, like everything nice, and is that juniper soap? Mmmm, someone came prepared.

"Of course I am certain. I know you doubt me, but I am an expert after all. I told you the effect can be unexpected. See?" He is probably pointing at you, but you can't see. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, you are rubbing your cheek to the smith's hot chest. One of your hands cups his buttock, and he jumps up.

"Fix that right now!" He is growling. Oooh, it is so sexy!

"I don't know how! You asked for my arrow, and you got it! And may I remind you, you used it on her yourself!"

"Listen, you little prick..." The smith clenches a fist and steps to Eros menacingly, while still trying to keep you away with the other hand. Oh what a sexy beast! Such an alpha male! Eros squeaks and hides behind your vanity.

Asclepius steps between them and pronounces soothingly, "Laddies, we need to work together here. Obviously our plan failed. Out of the three loves we only managed to trigger the physical one."

"Really?! You don't say!" The smith finally manages to catch your hands, and his large, hot, skillful, mind-blowing, panties-dropping hands encircle your wrists. Oh! Is he into this kind of stuff? Oh yeah, you can be convinced to accommodate his needs! Kinky god! You purr and look at him with from under your lashes. He finally catches your eyes. Yum, the wrinkle between the brows, stern line of his lips, all tense and determined, is that what he looks like when he is knobbing?

"Aphrodite." Oh, tee time to the big O three seconds! His voice! Commanding, low, smokey, your knickers are drenched right away!

"Yes?" Anything you want, you sexy animal! He is giving you an appraising look. Apparently your heaving chest and adoring eyes give him an idea, and he lets go of your hands.

"Go sit on the bed and wait for me." Now you are talking! Finally! You dash to the bed and quickly arrange yourself on it. Common, common! You take your best pose, making sure your tits are seen from their raddest angle, and after a moment of consideration you wave your hand and change into a short toga, shimmering with golden sparkles, a choker on your neck, an anklet, and heavy pearl bracelets. You make sure they look very much like shackles. He is obviously into domination! Bring it on, smith!

The three men by the door are heatedly discussing something in hushes voices, gesticulating wildly, and at some point the smith snarls and looks as if he is going to choke Eros. The scowl, the tendons and veins bulge on his neck, oh the temper! Angry smith makes you tingle all over! Finally he seems to be done raging, and Asclepius is done mollifying, and Eros seems to be out of his mumblings. Some decision must have been made, since the other two leave, throwing you concerned looks. You don't care, you are arranging wine and fruit on the bedside table.

The smith comes and sits on the edge of the bed. You immediately climb on his lap and wrap around him. "Aphrodite," his tone is cautioning. You are kissing along his jawline, your teeth scrape on his beard, oh, that is so rad, and then you catch his earlobe between your lips, "Aphrodite, we need to talk." You hum and nip his ear with your teeth.

"Which talk do your prefer, love, post coital or pre?" Your lips are near his ear, and you do have a low sensual whisper in your arsenal. Let's face, you invented the arsenal. He visibly shivers. "Or are you into dirty talk?" Say yes, smith, you will like it. He gently grabs your chin, framing it between his index finger and his thumb and makes you look into his eyes. Oh, so hot!

"Pre coital, goddess."

"I love it when you call me that… It makes me feel so submissive, less of a person, you know?" You run your hands on his upper arms. "You reduce me to my role in society, as if you only see me as a female, almost as just a body. Really hot!" He stares at you, his jaw dropped.

"I never thought of it that way..." You smile to him and lick your lips. You really want to go back to talking about coitus at the moment. You are eyeing his neck choosing an angle of an attack. "Aphrodite, we need to talk. You are not yourself..."

You dive in and suck on his throat. Oh orgasmic! A hot wave of piercing pleasure runs through your body, and you moan. He closes his eyes and drops his head back. Point Aphrodite. You deftly shift, straddling him, and finally manage to snog him like you wanted. His arms wrap around you, and hello! Is that a hammer in his trousers or he is just that happy to see you?

"Aphrodite, you have to stop… Self-control has never been my forte… Bloody hell, you are fit..." You bet, you delicious beast! You push your hands under his tunic and finally splay your palms on his chest. Your back arches, and just a wee bit more of this delicious rogering, and you have arrived! You grind your hips into his crotch and catch his mouth. You two are copping off for a while, and then he growls and twists from under your mouth. "No, Aphrodite, you will regret it later…"

"Oh believe me, I won't," you are peppering kisses on his clavicles, and then remember that you are goddess after all, you flicker your fingers and his tunic is gone. Oh yes, much better! You slide lower, your lips travelling to his abdomen, and he moans raspily. And then throws you off him.

"Gods, it's harder than I thought… You are too good…" He rubs his face with his hands and then shakes his head like a pony.

"Do you want me to beg? I mean, I am in. I can see you are up for it, let's make sure your needs are met the best possible way." You lift one brow, and you can swear his cock jerks in his trousers. "You obviously have a dominant streak, that's rad! Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power, isn't it? Let's give you the power you crave, darling." You move away from him and slide on the floor between his legs. Your hands lie on his thighs, and you rub them up and down. And then looking up at him you move one of your hands on his belt. You can see the inner struggle in him, and you decide to give him additional arguments in defense of the shag-her-into-sheets option. Your tunic melts away from your body, only jewelry left on your glowing skin, and you smile to him. With a feral growl he picks you up under your arms and drags you on the bed, on top of him. He falls back on the bed, and you decide that his trousers should go to. You wave your hand but nothing happens. You try again, you snap your fingers. Nothing. Hm, well, we'll have to do it old fashioned way then. You grab the buckle but the hitch with your magic seemed to have sobered him up a bit. He sits up again, his hands under your buttocks, and he presses his lips to your neck.

"Tell me, Aphrodite," his voice is raspy but he seems slightly more in control. Who cares, he is under you, you are naked, it'll work out! "Why didn't you want to shag last time?"

"Hm?" You are busy rubbing your tits to his coarse chest hair, your lips exploring his ear.

"Last time, we were in my bed, and you said "no" to me. Why?" Oh he does want to talk. Dull. But if it gets you into his pants…

"Oh just some rubbish about the first time. Wanting it to be special, and shite. I snapped out of it, don't worry." You smile to him and peck his lips. "Can we move on to the fun part now?" He is staring into your eyes.

"Would you have slept with me had I agreed on a bath then?" Oh gods, he is so boring when he is not copping off. You sigh.

"I suppose. I was in love with you, wanted to marry you and have your babies. Obviously it would include some amount of shagging at some point." You go back to kissing his jaw. Maybe he will finally remember what you are here for!

"I want to marry you too." Oh no, he is being serious. Bollocks. No, you don't want to talk, unless a conversation includes such phrases as "oh yes, more, more, you glorious stallion" and "your sweet little quim." He swallows, and he is slightly pale. "And have your babies."

"Good, now can we actually skip the chat and go straight to the process of making them?"

"Say you love me, and we will." He is looking at your very seriously, his jaws tense, and you are suddenly feeling very wonky. Alright, you can do it. You just need to blag your way into his pants. You open your mouth, and no sound comes out. He is giving you time, but you are silent, your mouth half open. What the fuck is this?! It is easy peasy, just three bloody words! People say them not meaning anything all the time. You try again, and... nothing. He sighs and cups your face with both hands. "You know, poulaki..."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I know what it looks like in this chapter, but so you know, it is far from the end of the story! This is the second half of Day Six, and they still have four days to go and Phro's barmy engagement party in the evening of Day Eleven to attend. And did you really think I would go that easy on them and just let them happily shag and live happily ever after? :D Muwahahaha! *maniacal laugh* And it is still not clear where the roses came from, and we still haven't seen Apollo, and I assure you Ares won't leave it at that... And Zeus wouldn't want her to win this bet that easily...**

"You know, poulaki," he cups the back of your head and is looking at you sadly, "This whole time I've been fighting with myself. I really tried not to see how warm and loving you are, how comfortable and how bloody safe I feel with you. I so wanted you to be the same cold-hearted bitch of a slag as the rest of them goddesses, including obviously my mother. That would really suit my bitter wanker attitude, you know?" He gives you a joyless smile.

"It was very easy, you are not very open about yourself, are you, little one? All those men marching through your bedroom, the snarky 'tude, the skanky dresses..." He looks you over and shakes his head. "Gods, you are so beautiful… So full of light, glowing, shimmering, like golden sand… I thought I'd go mad knowing you are above me in this grotty attic, all the time, and then sitting on that bloody stool in the kitchen, and your sodding bath… I thought I'd explode…"

He pulls you to himself, and the embrace is disappointingly asexual. Bollocks. Do you really have to listen to this? He hides his face into your hair. "Centuries in this forge, dirt, mortal food, this uncomfortable body that needs sleep and nosh, and the bloody graft… And here you were, all sunny and perky… First I wanted to strangle you, mostly for how much I still wanted to shag you even though I really hated you. And then just for how much I wanted to shag you. And then for how much you were bothering me. Your pity, your concern, your bloody eyes, so caring, so warm… I would put you down and knew it wasn't true… I knew pretty quickly that you were different, and I still wouldn't let myself soften up. I said you were in love with me, and you didn't argue. Do you know how happy I was?" He strokes your hair and kisses you behind your ear.

"Aphrodite, using you as a ticket back to Olympus, hitched to a spoilt and whiny goddess, to get the power back, to get the boys home, that was one thing… Knowing you now, marry you and know that you'd be shagging half Olympus at the same time, that's quite a different deal." He suddenly pushes you away from him and looks in your eyes, "Will you be shagging half Olympus now, Aphrodite? Because I sure as hell deserve it. Have I made the very deceiving soulless bitch out of you? I broke you and turned you in exactly the thing I was afraid you were…"

Suddenly his face contorts, and you see tears in his eyes, "Please, can you come back? The real you. Give me one more chance? Common, I know… I know I don't deserve it… I was the worst that could have happened to you, but please? Please, come back to me… Please, I love you..." He hides his face in your neck, his arms locked around your middle, his body hot and trembling.

And it clicks. There is no fireworks, no dramatic music, no magical transformation, like at the end of all those soppy stories that they feed to girls trying to school them into the submissive role in the society. Nope, it just clicks, and you are back. The numbness is gone, millions of lovers' voices immediately fill your head, and the randy mist is gone from your head as well. You blink and realize you are sitting on the smith's lap. Starkers. Oh, that is awkward. You gulp, and a tunic covers you, a few more layers of fabric thankfully separating your gender bits besides his trousers.

He moves slowly away and looks at your body. And then into you eyes. His remarkable blue eyes are very hopeful. Yeah, it is a very demure tunic. What? You are compensating for all the parading of your tits and your fanny in front of him of a few seconds ago. And offering to beg him for sex. Yuck. Seriously?!

"Poulaki?" He is searching your eyes, and you smile to him shakily. He grins widely. "Hi..."

"Hi..." That would be a good moment to snog you. You know it's cliche, but you've just been through quite an aggro. You need a bit of validation.

"Welcome back, poulaki," he is stroking your hair and staring at you, all soppy and adoring. What a numpty! "Aphrodite, I am..."

"Oh belt up and kiss me!" He guffaws and finally does. Oh yes, that is so wicked! It is definitely better when you are doing it with all your cogs in place. And the Molotov cocktail of love coursing your blood. All your thoughts jumble, you are dizzy from the lack of oxygen, he is very thorough, and oh gods, he tastes amazing! And his skin under your fingers! Bollocks, he still makes you so randy! He is kissing your jaw now, his lips slide to your ear, and he is mumbling.

"Poulaki, poulaki mou, my love..." Oh it is so good! You are melting in his hands, but there is something bothering you. Oh right… The wager… You push away from him, he is supporting you under your shoulder blades, and you cup his face. His eyes are brilliant and warm.

"I have something to tell you..." He smiles.

"If it's about your… purity, you already have. When you were daffy," he leans in to your cheek and brushes his lips on it. Oh, that is so barmy! You get goosebumps even from this. You still give him an haughty look.

"So you know, I do remember everything that happened. And I wasn't daffy, I was working through some personal issues." He chuckles into your neck.

"Uh-huh, especially in that golden tunic you so deftly took off later."

"Hey!" You punch his upper arm.

"Alright, alright, I am sorry." He is laughing, cerulean irises hiding under the fluffy black lashes. "That was mean. But it'll still take some adjusting to be married to the goddess of shag." What a tosser. You tap your finger on the tip of his nose.

"Love, I am the goddess of love." He is giving you a big cat smile. Oh, he is so bloody fit!

"Yes, you are. And you are in love with me." You remember what he said before.

"Well, if you insist," you fake exasperation, "Yeah, I'm in love with you." You two are snogging for a while. Bloody Hades, he is distracting! "Hephaestus… Mmmm, can you let me… Ohhh, no, forget it… Go on..." He is kissing down your neck and has already reached your shoulder. One of his hands is bunching up your skirt. Oh sod it, you need to tell him. "Hephaestus, I made a wager with Zeus." His lips freeze on your skin.

"What?"

"When he sent me here, I made a wager with him. That if I last here for ten days, I don't have to marry you, and if I ran before it, then I would have to marry you that very day. And there were the meals and the kisses conditions." He blinks. "I am supposed to kiss you every day. At least once. On the lips." He is giving it a thought and then chuckles.

"You are overworking yourself." You smile in return.

"What can I say, I am all about efficiency." He catches your mouth again. This time both his hands are already on your thighs under your skirt.

"And what are you thinking now, poulaki? Now that staying with me seems less grotty..." Self-assured tosser. Oh, you are so in love with him.

"Well, sort of… I see two options here," you are running the tips of your fingers along his beard. Yeah, it is so working for him. Look at these fluttering lashes and a small smile. "Leave now and marry you tomorrow, but then Zeus wins. And that is rather annoying of a thought. Or last till the end, leave in the morning of Day Eleven, and thusly stick it up to him."

"That is not what I was asking you about, poulaki," his tone is soft, "I meant regarding marrying me. What do you think about marrying me?"

"Well, although you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, I might consider it," he smiles wide, and you put your index finger on the tip of his nose, "But remember, smith, fancying you and being ready to marry you are two different things. And after I survive four more days in here, I can actually choose whom to marry." He twists from under your finger and kisses its tip.

"Then I also have two options. Make your life endlessly miserable, so you leg it before Day Eleven." You lift one eyebrow, and he smirks. "Or be at my best behaviour and after Day Ten hope that you would still choose me."

"I'll take the scenario behind door two, smith." He guffaws and falls back on the bed, pulling you with him, his hands stroking your back. You stretch on him, and it is delish! Every centimeter of your body is pressed into him, all warm and cozy, and you rub your nose to his beard covered jaw. "Um, wanted to ask you for a while..." He hums to show he is listening, his fingers running through your curls. "What's with the barbarian look?"

He lifts a brow. "Barbarian look?"

"Yeah, the beard, the hair, I get the kecks, but the tunic with lacing on the throat… Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to be difficult… And I still fell for you, but..."

"But your goddess of beauty feelings are gutted."

"A wee bit," you press your lips under his left clavicle. He smells nice. Even now that you are not narked. Juniper soap, huh? To think of it, he is very clean today. The hair, the trousers, the same ugly clobber obviously, but he is nice to touch. Oh whom are you kidding, you can't bloody keep your hands away from him!

He sighs and drops his head back. "The hair and the beard just sort of grew out, and the kecks.. Well, you saw the leg. And they are easier in the forge. As well as the long sleeved shirts. And the fibulas get hot in the forge… Oh, gods, you should slow down..." Your hands are roaming his abdomen, your lips on his pectoral muscles. Mmmm, and to think of it you didn't like the chesthair before. Yum.

"Why?"

"Because I am a few moment away from flipping you over and bonking you into the sheets. Well, at least attempting. And then you'll get cheesed off and I will feel guilty." You set your chin on your fist on his chest and give him a sceptical look.

"Why would I be cheesed off? Haven't we established that we both are up for it?" He looks shocked.

"Now?!"

"And when did you think? Our wedding night?"

"Sort of..." Is that blush on his cheekbones? Oh, he is such a loveable clot! He is embarrassed that he turned out to be more romantic about it than you! "Or at least I expected you to wait till you are certain..."

"I am certain."

"I meant when you are certain you are going to marry me!" Is that a squeak? Yep, he definitely sounded squeaky. You sit up on him and give him a thorough look over.

"You are aware that for a goddess it is not a manky experience, right? Like no blood, no pain. Mortals need to prepare for it, and some sort of need additional incentive, like when they already can't postpone it, for example on their wedding night, but I am a goddess. And I am technically familiar with the process. All of it. Every shag in the universe actually goes through me, so…"

"You said yourself that you wanted it to be special!" He is hilariously defensive. It's like you are trying to pop his cherry and not vice versus.

"I meant circumstances wise, like when I feel comfortable and relaxed, which I am. And not covered in your blood and cyclop snot. And as I always say to all who ask my advice, there is only one good reason to do it." You place your palms on the sides of his head, mimicking his pose from a few days ago. He meets your eyes, his lips slightly open, and for the first time you can clearly see he is in love with you. And he admires you. And he feels like the jammiest god in the universe. You consult your goddess of love radar. Oh yeah, the bloke is head over heels. You smile and bump your nose to his. "The only good reason to shag someone is if it feels absolutely and perfectly right."

"And do you feel it is absolutely and perfectly right, poulaki?" He is so beautiful...

"I do."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: ****The next review is going to be 100th! The winner gets a chance to be written into this story in any capacity they want!**

**A/N#2: ****Thank you, RagdollPrincess, for the brainstorming session and getting me unstuck plot twists wise! :) You are the best!**

He rolls you underneath him, and you wrap your legs around him. The jewelry melts away from your body, only the simple tunic left on you, hair scatters on the pillow, and he smiles into your eyes. He leans and kisses you, deeply, passionately and tenderly. You push your hands into his hair and gently scrape his scalp. There is low rumble in his chest, gods, what a sexy beast, and he opens your mouth with his tongue. You moan and brush yours on his delectable upper lip. And then gently nip the bottom one, his intoxicating taste flooding your senses.

His lips slide on your throat, and he drags a slow open kiss along the tendons on your neck. All deities almighty, this is wicked! You run your fingers on the long muscles along his spine, and he moans into your skin. Heavy, hot, temperature wise and otherwise, not a gram of fat, bulging muscles moving under your hands, mamma mia! You are one jammy chick!

"Aphrodite..." Oh yes, please, murmur my name like a prayer! Sod all cliches! That is exactly why cliches are popular, because they bloody work! And his quick greedy kisses on your collarbones do too. Bollocks, you are going to explode! He might have to let you get off once before you get to the big moment.

"Oh Heph..." Oh that's actually not that bad. Very masculine with a decent amount of familiarity! He doesn't seems to mind.

"Poulaki…" Yep, he is totally in for pet names. Ace! He gently pulls on the fibula on your right shoulder, and the tunic slips down. His eyes are on your tits. Pucker up, girls, it's hammer time! His lips are on the upper side of your boob, and would he move them lower already, for fuck sake?! "My little goddess..." And here we go, the nipple! You arch into him with a raspy moan. It feels fucking brilliant! Now it all makes sense! Yeah, totally worth experiencing first handedly. The hot mouth, the tender lips, and then he flickers his tongue on the sensitive peak! Yes, yes, bloody hundred times yes! His large scorching palms slide under your shoulder blades, his hands are calloused, and somehow it is also brill! He pays decent amount of attention to your boob, and then switches to the second one. He is very gentle though, which is very nice of him, since you have sensitive skin, and then he lifts his face, his eyes brilliant and smiling. Gods, he is gorgeous! Lips pink and swollen, light blush on his cheekbones, and you have never seen his face so soft and vulnerable. "I am nervous..." He rubs his nose to your jaw.

"Why?" You are staring at him.

"You are the goddess of love, and I have an almost mortal body." His jaws tense, and gods, you love him so much. And oh these insecurities make him a hundred times more attractive. Oh common, you have never done it before. You are entitled to some jitters here. "You are sex itself, and..." He exhales sharply. "There is nothing new I can do to impress you. And the mortal body has its limitations..."

"I am worried it won't be as ace for me personally." Bollocks, why did you say that? Shut your gob up, Aphrodite! You are making it worse for him. "I mean I know it all, I have invented most of it, but..." You gulp. He kisses the corner of your lips, and it somehow makes you feel better.

"I also don't know what to expect."

"If you tell me you've never done it before either, I'll kick you in the bollocks for being a lying wanker." He guffaws.

"I have done it before. But not with the goddess of love. The woman who invented it all." He is momentarily distracted, "Wait, you invented it all? As in all the positions?" He is so flabbergasted that you feel immediately very, very smug.

"Yes, of course. Including the Sphinx, the Suspended Scissors, the Dolphin, my favourite by the way, the Standing Wheelbarrow, all of them. Though I have to tell you, Thea helped me with the Stairway to Heaven." His eyes widen, and he looks jolly pale. "Not physically helped, obviously, she came up with the idea." He is still obviously digesting the information. You cup his face and make him look at you. "It doesn't matter. None of it does. It's just you and I, right?" He frowns but then smiles to you widely and openly.

"Nothing else matters." His tone is decisive, and he catches your mouth. Yep, firsthand experience totally rules! You press into him harder, and it is so wonderful! One of his hands slips from under you, and he brushes it along your body, on your ribs, on your hips, and hikes up one of your legs higher. And then his fingers run along your calf, and it does some magical things to your fanny. Wow, mamma mia! Thank gods for an experienced bloke!

"Gods, you are good..." You are gasping, and he is sucking on your neck.

"Tell me what you want." Oh a raspy aroused smith! This is better than Ambrosia, this is worth giving up Olympus, this is...

"You, I want you… Just you..." You look at each other, passion and love filling your hearts and bodies, and you rush towards each other...

And fall off the bed in an entanglement of limbs. You blink and stare at him. He looks no less gobsmacked. He is underneath you actually, and he winces. Oops, knee in the bollocks. Totally not how you expected this to proceed. You move your leg away from his wedding vegetables. What was this kaboom? The whole house shook.

"Is it an earthquake?" He listens for a bit and then deftly pushes you off him.

"Bloody pillocks! They blew up the forge!" He scampers out of the room, and you are left on the floor, spread like a seastar, hot and bothered, your tunic around your waist, light blue knickers that you so sneakily conjured on your arse sadly unnoticed. Seriously?! No, seriously?! Can a girl lose her virginity in peace in this house?!

You get up and quickly make yourself presentable. Hair, bands, a new tunic, short and tidy, a heavy opal necklace and matching bracelets, you are the goddess of shag after all. No, no shag, beauty! Bloody hell, you are so randy. You are conjuring sandals when you realize that the smith is yelling so loudly in the forge that you can hear him two floors up. Gee, these are jolly good lungs. You really don't envy the boys at the moment. You bet the fact that he was so that close to getting his end away doesn't add any warmth and sunlight in his generally grumpy disposition. You apparate into the forge, and sure enough Killilos and Filippo are standing in front of the raging smith, clenching their hands, their heads hanging low.

"How many bloody times do I have to bloody repeat not to touch the large bellows when I am not here?! Look at the sodding mess you made!" Mess isn't exactly the word you would use. The equipment in the forge is wrangled out of the wall, half of the stairs going up into the house is missing, fire is raging in one of the stoves, all the floor is covered in distorted pieces of metal and glowing embers. You shift away from an especially hot piece of a ceiling rail near your foot. Killilos notices you and gives you his puppy eyes. Oh the boy is good! You bet no one can say "no" to those peepers. The smith jerks his head and sees you too. The snarl on his face is actually very cute. What, wait? Oh sod it, it is. All three of them are covered in ashes and soot flying in the air, and it makes his teeth look even whiter, and you just want to wipe his adorable nose with a hankie. And maybe give him a bath. Oh a bath! Your thoughts plummet into your gutter. And judging by his brow slowly creeping up, he has learnt to read your facial expressions too. His fury is extensively mollified by a sudden thought of what he is going to do to you once you two are in your bed again, and yes, you can read his mind that bloody easily! And it is bloody obscene! You can't wait. He inhales deeply and gives you a warm smile.

"I am sorry, poulaki, I might have to deal with these clots here first," he glares at the boys sideways, and they dutifully express regret and repentance on their manky faces, but none of you believes his grumpiness anymore. "Shall I see you at dinner?"

You give him a regal nod and with a wink to the boys you apparate upstairs. Dinner, huh? Oh the possibilities! You clearly envision him eating strawberries off your stomach. Purr… There is loud clanging coming from the forge and more yelling, much less cheesed off to be honest, really sounds as if he is yelling for the sake of yelling, and you survey the kitchen. Nope, bad idea. You will end up having your first time either on the table, or on the floor, and there is way too little room here for a comfortable shag. One of you will definitely bang either a head or a leg on the furniture. Your attic it is.

You are arranging the candles on the small table near your bed, when you hear a dull thump, and the world grows dark. Your last thought is a double surprise. A. You really didn't know one can knock a goddess out by hitting her on the head. B. Who knew you do hear the thump from the blow on your own head before you conk out... Hm, barmy.

It's dark and strange for a mo, and then you open your eyes and look around. Bloody fuck, your head hurts! You try to sit up and the world swims around you. Well, technically a barmy gloomy room you are in swims around you. Wow, this is bonkers! It is not manky, but… creepy. That is the word to best describe the tall room, definitely underground, stone walls with some cray cray engravings on them, sort of domy and gothic, eerie and dim. You are lying on a low settee, your tunic decorously arranged on it. Yuck. Creepy, bloody creepy. There is a small table near it, with wine and fruit. Altogether it has the distinct overall ambient of funeral. Yep, you are in Hades.

And sure as hell, no puns intended, the Lord of the Underworld steps from behind a grey column. Was he standing there, waiting for you to return to your senses? Seriously, you clearly imagine him spending, say, forty minutes there, twiddling his thumbs, and checking his watch every ten second. You giggle. He is so stuffed up, it's hilarious.

"I know you are awake. Why do you linger in the shadows?" His voice is as poncy and monotonous as you remembered. Seriously, who is doing all the lingering here?! What a lunatic. He is wearing a slightly different bathrobe, all glittery and dragging behind him like a barmy lizard tail, brrr… Creepy-crawly indeed. He is also walking as if he is skating on the ice.

"Um, Hades, have you fallen off a trolley?! Did you really knock me out and drag me to your cave?" His left eye twitches but he quickly schools his face into the same barmy expression.

"I warned you before what your refusal to marry me will summon, but you would not listen."

"Um, yeah, so? I want to go back to Hephaestus's house."

His face twists in a weird expression. He suddenly slides on the floor to you and hisses into your face, "Do not talk to me of the god of fire! I know his lowly nature and the ruin he brings. I have faced his treacherous nature." What's he all about? And why does he have a face like he is having a big O?! He pulls himself together and gives you a look over. "You are just like him. Same life, and fire, and passion, coursing in your blood and controlling you," he spits the words with disgust, it sounds like an insult when he says it. Well, the bloke is into dead stuff. Duh.

"Right. Whatever you say. Can I go now?" You consider punching him in his conk, but one should forgive their enemies, nothing annoys them so much.

"No! Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in a life of a god of death. I'm patient. I can wait."

"For what?"

"For you to change your mind and become my Queen."

What?! Is he mental? You don't have a hundred years. You have a dinner to attend and a virginity to lose. Bugger, how did you get into this aggro?


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I am feeling much better, so the flood of updates will slow down now. But I'm still here and still haven't found a job yet, so… :)**

**A/N#2: Since lovely ****maybege**** was so generous as to gift ****Lady Stardust on Mars**** with the right to appear in the story, she receives another prize! As by her request the ferocious and magnificent Dwalin will make his appearance in this story. And not for the last time.**

**Lady Stardust on Mars**** will be starring as Rhea later in the story.**

**A/N#3: ****RagdollPrincess****, you glorious goddess of FF, I put your whole passage re: kidnapping and comparison of Hades to a chatty uncle in! I died laughing, and thought everyone should get a chance to enjoy your wonderful sense of humour! :D**

**A/N#4: ****Just4Me****, I LOVE his guffaw! RA has this low, throaty laugh that turns me into a giggling fangirl. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, almost closed, the black lashes, the white even teeth, gee, I need a cold shower! :D**

"Listen, you poncy wanker, first of all, you clobbered me to the head. What if you arsed up some cogs there? People might start falling in love with their chamber pots." You get up and step towards him, your fists on your hips. He shrink away, suddenly looking uncertain. You bet, daft tosser. The skirt falls around your knees, and you suddenly remember how it was bunched up around your waist, the smith's cock pressed into your thigh. That makes you so livid! You were that bloody close! "Secondly, I'd rather marry your three headed mutt than you!"

He jerks his pointy chin up. "He does have a human form, so that can be arranged, goddess." Oh that did it! No one calls you goddess! Enough is bloody enough! You knee him in his bollocks and with deep satisfaction watch him collapse on the floor with a very surprised face. When it's scrunched from excruciating pain, his posh clock doesn't look that smooth anymore, does it?

"Get me back right this moment, you daft bugger! Let me out!" There is no way to apparate from the Underworld. Apparently the river Styx that surrounds the Underworld nine times, seriously, what a waste of resources, jams the signal or something. Pretty much, there is no coverage of any sort in Hades. Altogether the bloke has serious issues. Lethe, the river of oblivion, Acheron, the river of pain, Phlegethon, the river of something rather, seriously?! Apparently there is some sort of a back, door through which you can come out and even take someone with them. By the way you are still bloody mad about Orpheus. You were very proud of how it worked out with Euridice, they were so chummy together, but no, Hades had to arse it up. Wanker.

"And where will you go, Aphrodite, if I release you? Back to the miserable smith?" Hades's face is scrunched in disgust and disdain. "Mortal, breathing, partaking mortal food, I do not understand how you can even tolerate his presence in the same room with your glorious spirit." You could explain it to him, but his cold heart might not handle all the discussion of romping well. He gets up and walks slowly to you. Aside from the bonkers clothes, he is not that grotty. Tall, lithe, obviously strong body. Such a pity he is a nutter. "You, the Eternal Light and the Golden, the Heavenly, the Postponer of Old Age, the Laughter-Loving, the Mother of Desire..." Alright, perhaps he is indeed not that bad.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, deathly one." You might not sound that cheesed off anymore though. He comes closer and looks down at you. Alright, the eyes are beautiful. But still, no, yuck.

"I know you were given choice. Would you not prefer a genuine powerful god by your side and not a fallen half-mortal whose immortality is still in my keep?" Oh that got your attention. Does he care to elaborate?

"I was indeed given a choice, Receiver of the Dead," you turn your back to him letting him enjoy the view of your backside, slowly walk to the settee, and then you seductively lower yourself on it, the tunic cut sliding, showing high up your leg. He blinks. He might be god of the dead, but he is more than alive himself. You are more than certain a large amount of his ichor just rushed downstairs. "In a few days I will be choosing my consort. Are you offering yourself, Hades?" You wrap your voice softly around his name, and he is suddenly sitting near you on the bench. Gee, the git is seriously like a lizard of sorts. Undetectable to an eye and moving with some sort of creepy rustling. And cold. There is absolutely no heat coming from his body. Alright, technically all gods are ethereal, but most still like to create the illusion. The warmth, the smell, most of gods try to at least seem mortal. Not to freak people out. Hades has been marinating in his own barmy juices for too long here.

"I do, oh the Dove of Olympus. Be honest with me, oh the Glory of Love, do not give me hope where there is none. But if there is any..." He picks up your hand and presses it to his lips. You lower your eyes, making sure your lashes flutter sufficiently. Gods, men are daft. You momentarily remember how the smith saw right through your tricks. Yep, the dead one is much less perceptive.

"I do not have your answer, Saviour of the Dead, it all is so unexpected..." Your tits heave, and he audibly gulps. "And Zeus seemed to have chosen the abominable smith as my future husband..."

"Surely Zeus will see the fault in his reasoning once he is informed of our love..." What the fuck is wrong with his noggin, seriously? You give out a tragic sigh.

"Zeus seems to favour him, although he was the one to banish the smith…"

"Oh, he has only followed his wife's whim," Hades waves his other hand dismissively. "He himself is strangely fond of the wretched fire god. He asked me to preserve his immortality in the Isles of the Blessed," he makes a scornful sound. "I thought it was not worthy and could have been kept in Tartarus, but no, all the best for the smith. But we have forgotten of the more important topic of the conversation, my dove," gee, he is creepy, especially with this unblinking stare of his, "Will you give me a glimpse of hope for your affection?"

Let's be frank here, you feel kind of bad for the git. He is as mad as a wet hen, but being kidnapped by him is an equivalent of being cornered at a family feast by a tangential uncle who holds you hostage by his talented way of speaking continuously and drawing breath at times, which doesn't allow for interruption due to the listener's deeply ingrained sense of etiquette that is impossible to overrule despite the listener's frustration. Using your feminine charms on him is almost below you. The problem is you are in a hurry so you need him to pull his finger out, figuratively speaking. You don't have all day. Bloody literally. It is probably morning already of Day Seven, and you have meals and snogs to take care of. Oh, the snogs… Concentrate, chick, deal with the task at hand first.

"Give me time, Ruler of the Many Dead, perhaps till the end of today, to meditate." You slowly lift your eyes, big and doe-like, and he gives you his weird smile. Seriously, someone should tell him to blink at least from time to time. He kisses your hand again and gets up.

"Of course, my dove, have rest, and I will visit you in seven hours. Feel as free in my house as if it is your own. Or soon will be," he bows, dramatically twirls, his tail drawing a barmy arch in the air, and walks away. Eeejit. Right, so where are the Isles of the Blessed?

Two hours of exploring the Underworld leave your rather manky and with an annoying headache. The tosser hit you you with his staff, and it still feels like there are snooker balls rolling inside your noggin. You are quite obviously contained to some inner chambers and can't get out. But again, the pale wanker underestimates your determination. And your charm.

You turn around yet another corner, and hello, scary looking bloke covered in tattoos and holding a giant ax! He looks at you from under his heavy brows and snarls, "Which way, lass?"

"Which way is what?" And who the hell is he to call you "lass"?

"You are heading. In or out of these chambers?" He is standing in your way in a narrow passage, his massive arms crossed on his chest.

"Out. I'm trying to find..."

"Can't allow. You can only go in and not out."

"Then why did you ask?" He stares at you. He is really impressive, the long moustache, shaved head, but somehow not really scary. You are getting a barmy vibe from him as well. Not human and not godly. Oh, now you get it. "You are Cerberus, aren't you?" He nods. "Did your master leave you here to guard the passage?" He snorts derisively. So he did. And the watchdog isn't very chuffed about it. Obviously, who would like being stuck here and making sure some unassuming bird stays inside? Not too exciting. "Are you hungry? I mean, there was some food in the first room I was, and I can't have it, so if you feel like it..." His eyes fire up, poor mutt, but then he frowns.

"Inner rooms are no place for simple folk whose job is to fight and fend for themselves. I am not allowed." Oh but you are such a good dog! You step closer and gently run your hand along his upper arm. He stills and looks at you tensely.

"I am certain your master won't mind. Especially if he doesn't find out. Common, I'll have some rest, and you can have a snack."

Half an hour later the two of you are chatting rather amicably. Well, he mostly grunts between his bites, and you blabber. At some point you finally find the weak point, "That is such a lovely axe, Cerberus. Look at the fuller, the hilt, the curve of the blade!" He stops munching, and his ears perk up. "I've been lodging with Hephaestus for the past few days..." If he were in his dog form, he would surely wag his tail right now. Oh, that's how it is… Someone wouldn't mind changing a master here. Oh I'm with you, fido, I also want to lick him when I see him. "And the forge, gee… So impressive. Hot bellows, the swords and the shields on the walls, and I saw this armour he was making…" You sigh and peek. The mutt is not eating, his face dreamy. "So you see I really need to get back to him. I am his ticket back to Olympus..." Cerberus looks at his plate sadly and swallows. "Can you help me? Perhaps?.."

He throws the bone on the plate and growls, "I've had enough of this lippy pale god. I wish I could throw him over the side into the Styx and be done with him. But that's the job, you see?"

You nod sympathetically and stretch your arm. There is still dark fur-like hair growing at the bottom part of his head, and you scratch him behind his ear. His eyes become glassy and unfocused. He is missing a piece of his right ear. Poor doggie, someone needs to contact pet control! You will have a word with Zeus when you are out of here.

"Maybe we can think of something… Like you can get relocated somewhere on Olympus, I am sure, I can convince HR… I just need to get out of here..." He screws his eyes at you, and you continue scratching. "Maybe we can pretend I overpowered you..." He was panting from pleasure, but that makes him stop and look at you apprehensively. "I know it is not very realistic, but maybe I came from behind and knocked you out with my magic. And then ran to the Isles of Blessed. Where are they by the way?" You can see cogs spinning in his head.

An hour later you are happily marching through dark halls of the Underwrold, a simple map drafted by Cerberus in your hands. You left him in the room, very securely tied to the settee by the ribbons of your magic. You didn't tell him what these ribbons are to be used for actually. Not to make him uncomfortable. You also made sure that food and drink were in his reach. You are not an animal.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Yes, Dwalin is missing a piece of his ear (or maybe they are just that barmy shape? :) Hm...), Persephone is not yet married to Hades in this story (I am very liberal with mythology timeline in here :) and where are the quotes, my lovelies? :D**

**And no, ****Lady Stardust on Mars****, Hera was actually the one who threw him out. Zeus was taking care of his immortality. Not for long… Ehehehe… :)**

**And a Doctor Who quote inside. I love Eleven! :D (Though Ten is my Doctor through and through!)**

You know those days that everything is just grotty, and you are super dischuffed, and then you come into this room and it is like Greece's Next Top Model male edition? No, never had this? Well, that is pretty much how you are feeling at the moment. You took this dim, scary arse lift and got transferred on a beach… White sand, soft cerulean waves rolling on it, and men… Tall, short, hench, lithe, pale, dark… Oh yeah, Aphrodite is in paradise! Literally. It is the Isles of the Blessed. Those having chosen to be reincarnated three times and in each life having succeeded to be the hottest and the best are here now. And who helped most of them to get to the top? Exactly.

"Aphrodite, my glorious goddess!" Oh, Orpheus! The ultimate sweet talk! He comes up to you, his arm wrapped around Eurydice's waist, and she is smiling shyly. Oh, they are one of your best projects! Until Hades cocked it up. Wanker. Well, at least now it seems to be tip top. "My goddess, to what do we owe the pleasure?" You see Achilles and Ajax waving you from the nearest hammocks. Gods, this is like a bloody five star resort! Oh la la! Sign me up!

"Orpheus, my boy," you kiss the air near his cheeks, "I am sneaking in, don't mind me. I am looking for something..."

"Let us help, oh the Mother of Desire!" Eurydice nods enthusiastically, and other heroes start coming up, all cheering. Let's face it, they did see a lot of action in their lifetime, and who helped them to get their ends away? Exactly.

"I am looking for an immortality of a god, and to be honest, have no bloody idea what it looks like!"

"It is a small glowing vile that is hanging between the tits of my cursed wife." You turn around and look at Menelaus, the King of Sparta, the hero of the Trojan War, and the unfortunate husband of Helen, the most beautiful woman on earth. Bitch. Is she here too? "Answering your unvoiced question, my lady, yes, the cunt is here too. We keep distance," he is gnashing his teeth. Let's face it, after the Trojan war was over he still took her back, after her rompy stompy with Paris and after she pretty much caused the bloody biggest military conflict in the Greek history. He was overwhelmed by the glory of her beauty and took her back, claiming that instead of killing her on the spot "he would punish her in Sparta." Wink wink.

"And where is your ball and chain, Menelaus?"

"On the other side of the Isles. She is still bummed that Paris didn't make it in. Wanker..."

You thank the heroes and want to leave, but they wouldn't let you go. Apparently it is bloody boring here. Orpheus at least has his wife here, for most in here it is either to hit the gym or play board games with each other. Nudge nudge wink wink. You let them throw you a do, a wee bit of dancing among the fittest men of Greece never harmed anybody, and then they quickly make you a cute chariot and pull it to the other side of the island. Sweet!

Helen is indeed sort of po-faced, and no, you are not gloating. She is sitting on the edge of the waves, all fit and melancholic, and indeed there is a vial on her chest. You leave the boys at a distance and approach her. Making sure you look hot as fuck. All glowing and gorgeous. Most beautiful my ass! She lifts her giant doe-eyes at you, and immediately jumps up and bends in a respectful bow. To be honest, you feel kind of guilty. You really shouldn't have tried to match her with Paris. Oopsie daisy…

You allow her to sit down with a dismissive wave of your hand and lower yourself regally on the sand. She plops near, all soppy eyes and mournfully lowered corners of her lips. Yeah, she is fit. All copper hair and endless legs. You'd shag her yourself. But you have the hot and fit god of fire waiting for you, and that is presumably his immortality in between her glorious boobs.

"So, Helen, that thing on your neck..." She looks at your sideways, all stroppy and haughty all of a sudden.

"If you think I'm giving it to you, goddess, you are mistaken!" What?! You are staring at her in shock, and she straightens up. Oh, you little bitch! "I was given this vial to preserve, I have been keeping it as ordered by Lord Hades. But more gods keep coming down from Earth. They are spawning in Olympus, and come down for their fun here… We are but toys for you. I am not giving you the vial." How about I take it off your unmoving body, you daft cow? You clench a fist but then look at the chain the vial is hanging on. Oh, you are such a wanker, Hades! Magical chain 2.0, can only be taken off by the wearer. Clever. But not as clever as baby Aphrodite here…

"What do you want in return, Helen?"

"I do not think that you would allow your best champion to pledge himself to a lowly Greek girl…" Oh oh, that doesn't sound good! Which one does she want now?

"No, you are right, l would not. Still, if he cares about you…" Her face lights up.

"He does! He sees me as a friend of course, but with a tinsy bit of your magic..." She makes puppy eyes at you. Whatevs, you don't need any champion anymore.

"Who do you want?" She wriggles her graceful hands, seriously, it looks so lame, and...

"Adonis. I want Adonis." Of course you do, you chav. He is so fit! Until Ares ended him in, you had hots for the blond looker yourself. The blue eyes, the arse to die for, the legs that just go on and on… Since Sappho wrote that poem of hers, every underage bird in this country is his fangirl. "I have seen him sometimes, beyond the isles and up in the night. I have seen his hair fall on his wide shoulders and the white light forever filled the air. He is a wonder, precious and pure." Yep, definitely she has read the poem. Team Adonis all the way through, isn't she? The problem is he is a god now… Whatever, you'll think of something. Maybe set them up at your engagement party. Oh you really need to get back already. You want to celebrate the engagement, thoroughly, in all possible positions! Wow, you are suddenly hot.

"Alright, you can have my word, Helen. Now give me the vial." She is staring at your incredulously. "I gave you my word, mortal. It is enough." You add some steel in your tone, and she drops her head. And takes off the chain. Bingo! Who's da man? Yuck, never saying it again!

You stretch your hand, and the vial lies on your palm. Wow… It's like it's vibrating and sends barmy shivers through your body. How is she not affected? You look at her, but apparently you are the only one feeling it. But oh, you are, all your body tingles, and your fanny rejoices. Oh is that how it is going to be when he gets it back? You are already a quivering mass of adoration around him, that will be lethal. Maybe you need a couple rounds while he is still bloody half-mortal. To ease into the process so to say.

You get up and pat her shoulder. "Alrighty, toodlepips! Thanks for this… And I'll ring you." Maybe. Oh whom are you kidding, you gave your word. Now you need to set them up. Later, later, lots to do. Like 6'4'' of hot god to do.

You follow Cerberus's map back, there is supposed to be a door somewhere here… You turn around a corner and realize you are lost. You go back and try again. Nope, still the same passage. Bloody hell, who makes it so sodding complicated? And what the hell with the barmy bridges that are so fucking high and have absolutely no bloody rails?! You can't fall and die, but it is freaking terrifying! Yuck, your head spins. Is Hades so much of a lizard that he can't slide off and would just stick to the surface like a gecko?

You puff out air in aggro and try again. Oh yeah, here is the door! It is small and unnoticeable, but you squeeze in and end up obviously in the entrance hall of Hades. Outside the security line. Good doggie, Cerberus! And there is the exit, with a bright neon sign above. Funny, how no one can actually leave the Underworld, but they are still required to have a fire exit.

Suddenly you hear some rumble, and the Gates of Hades burst open. The smith rushes in, and damn, you are so hot for him right now! The armour gleaming on his body, a giant sword in his hands, the feral snarl and shite… Gee, the bloke is smoking! Literally, he is so mad that there is heat and smoke coming off his body in waves! Killilos and Filippo are following him, also clad in chain mails, swords clenched in their hands, equally ferocious faces. Yum. And the battle cry goes straight in your fanny, you are not joking, you are that close to the Big O!

They rush in and freeze in front of you. You smile widely and wave your hand. "Hi!" The smith's face drops, and they all lower their swords. And then you remember what time it is. "Tell me you didn't eat without me!" He is staring at you, still slightly smoking, and you are not quite certain what this expression on his face is.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, goddess?!" Oh, that was the expression of anger. Good to know. The boys exchange confused stares. "I thought you were kidnapped, you left without a note, and you are just..." What's his problem?

"I was kidnapped. And I got out. Easy peasy, Hades isn't exactly the criminal mastermind, you know..."

The smith emits a loud growl, pushes the sword in a sheath at his back, by the way, that's fucking hot, and marches away. Killilos and Filippo shift between his feet and look at you as if asking for guidance. How do you know? You are not sure what is going on here. You rush after him and touch his arm. "Hephaestus..." He jerks his arm from under your palm and keeps on walking. What did you do?! You honestly don't understand…

The boys follow you and for a while all four of you are marching through some green fields in silence. He is fuming. Literally. You shortly think that it is apparently his thing and momentarily wonder if he bursts in flame when he gets off, but then you get annoyed. You didn't do anything wrong! You stop and yell, "Smith!" He stops too, and his back is tense.

He twirls on his heels, and his face is livid. "I was worried for you!" Gee, that is a bloody roar. Seriously, you are partially deaf from this. Again. "I thought I'd go mad! I looked everywhere! I thought you left, changed your mind, then I thought you were killed, kidnapped, what the fuck is wrong with you?! And all you care about is the bloody wager!" The armour on him starts heating up, seriously, it's glowing. And you still have no idea what got his knickers in a tie. You are totally ace, nothing happened.

"But I am fine..."

"Congratulation on it!" He sneers and steps closer to you. He pointed his finger to your face. Rude, mate, really rude. "I was worried for you, you stupid cow! I thought I'd die if anything happened to you, I was going mad, and all you care about is whether I have eaten without you. Am I just a tool for you?!" Common, Aphrodite, you are goddess of love! You need to figure it out. And not get distracted by his talking about a tool.

"No, you are not… What? I don't know..."

"Gods, you are infuriating!" He growls again and then apparates away. What the actual fuck? You are staring at the empty spot where he stood just a second ago. Sure, bugger off if you feel like it, you tosser! Some cause happiness wherever they go, others whenever they go. Whom are you kidding, you are gutted. You just had your first row in a relationships. You did not enjoy it.

You look at the boys, they are pointedly staring under their feet. Typical man, buggered off and left you to take care of the kids. You walk up to them and grab their shoulders. "Hold on boys, the first time is actually rather unpleasant!"

You apparate into the house and leaving the boys to throw up into the sink you go to your attic. What was this wobbly from the smith? You thought everything went so well, you didn't even get to tell him about the vial. You twirl it in your hands and hide it under your pillow.

At that moment the door flies open, and the smith storms in. You open your mouth but he grabs the back of your head and attacks your mouth. Hot, hot, hot! He bits into your bottom lip, and you whimper. And then he pushes you away, and he still looks livid. "Here is your snog, goddess, since it all your care about. And I'll eat out so you don't lose your fucking bet!" He leaves the attic, slamming the door behind him. What the actual fuck?


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Thank you all for the reviews and quotes! You are the lovelies and the fairest of them all! :D**

Alright, you are sad. That is so bloody unfair! You have nothing to be apologetic about, and you are hating every minute of this bloody day! You worked all night, there were loads of bamf left after those days when you were off the trolley. By the time you are done with all the letters and applications, it is about seven o'clock in the evening. You are properly cheesed off as well. The smith was absent all day, Killilos and Filippo provided some entertainment in the middle of the day when they were sparring in the yard, but otherwise Aphrodite has been a very good girl, and now she wants some pudding! And the smith! Well, the smith is your pudding...

By the way, you did give it a thought, and you sort of get it. He wanted to be a hero and save you as a damsel in distress, and you sort of cocked up his plan. And also he probably was worried about you, poor ducky… He didn't know you are such a badass. Alright, you might have been a bit insensitive when you asked him if he ate, but seriously, it's important. You need to win this wager. It already isn't about the wedding, it's the principle. No one tells Aphrodite what to do! And the smith needs to understand it as well, if he wants this marriage to work. And he seriously needs to learn to stop yelling so much. Gee, those are lungs like no other, guvnor!

It is sunset soon, and there is a bang of the door downstairs. You apparate to the entrance door and see him hanging his chlamys on the hook by the door. He freezes, his back to you, and his shoulders are tense.

"I am sorry for yesterday..." His voice is low and quiet, and who cares, you have forgiven him five minutes after he yelled. He doesn't need to know that though. Poor sod, he has such hard time accepting that you actually might fancy him. He turns and looks at you sadly.

"Were you so angry because you thought I buggered off?" He stares at his hands. "You do realize that it would actually mean I lost and had to marry you right away?" He nods.

"So I assumed that you were kidnapped..."

"I was…"

"And I was worried, Hades is one sick fuck. And then I saw you, all cheery, and I thought… You seemed to be enjoying your visit to the Underworld... I'm sorry, I had no right... To judge and to be possessive..." Oh, he was jealous! And worried! And he thought you were getting chummy with Hades! Oh such a numpty!

You come to him and cup his face. You scrape his beard gently, and there is a low rumble in his chest. He leans in and kisses you. You stand on your tip toes and wrap your arms around his neck. All your skin is tingly, and you moan. He suddenly stops and moves away from you. There is a mischievous smile on his face, but he is not deceiving anyone here. He is jolly insecure, isn't he?

"Is that why you came down? For today's snog?" Oh you are so not letting him arse it up again! Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end. And this one will end in a sack, or your name isn't Aphrodite!

"Yes, and some more of that, please," you start walking backward pulling his collar, and he guffaws. You apparate the two of you into the attic, your aim is surprisingly ace, and you two fall on your bed. You grab his ears and make him look into your eyes. "I want you. Just you. Don't care about the wager, don't care about other gods, I just want you. Any questions, love?" He shakes his head and finally snogs you properly. There is still some hesitation in his movements, and you decide that apparently you have more balls in this family. Fine with you. You roll him underneath you, cage his head between your arms and give him a firm stare. "I am in love with you. I want to marry you. I made up my mind. This is how it's going to be. We will live happily, shag a lot, have beautiful babies and will not hurt each other's feelings. Well, not much. And if we do, we will apologise and have bloody glorious make-up sex. And you will stop yelling so much and will start using your words. And I decided that we will be nauseatingly happy. Are we clear?"

He smiles into your eyes. "We are clear."

"Good." You press your lips to his, and he sits up, holding you close.

"Two things though..." Gods, now what? You hums absent-mindedly. You are busy with the strings on his collar. "Can we do it old-fashioned way?" You stop your ministrations and lift your brows. "The shag, right now… Can we just do it the mortal way? No disappearing clothes.. No anti-gravity sex on the ceiling…" His hands are gently stroking your shoulder blades, and you kiss the corner of his lips.

"A. I didn't know you can have anti-gravity sex on the ceiling. B. I don't want to know. It's just you and I… No enhancements." He cups the back of your head and pulls you in. What the fuck is he talking about? If anything else is added in this combination, you will bloody combust. You are already panting and, seriously, so close!.. You grind your hips into him, and he throatily moan. You are sucking on his neck, and then remember. "And the second thing?"

"What?" He is completely bladdered. His eyes are closed, the head dropped back, his hands roaming your back.

"The second thing you wanted to say..." You grab the tunic and pull it off him. Yes, yes, yes! Finally! Gods, all this work in the forge paid off. The chest! The hair! Black and thick! Yeeee… Seriously, you are reduced to very short excited exclamations.

"Why me?" You try to tear your eyes from the hairy rock hard pectoral muscles, oh, call Aceso and Aegle, goddesses of healing, Aphrodite is not feeling OK…

"What?" You look into his eyes. They are vulnerable and uncertain. Oh my lambkin, how did the world arse up your self-esteem so much? You shortly think that you are going to end Hera in. Slowly and painfully. With a spoon.

"Why me? I am not the most attractive of men, I have nasty clothes, half-mortal, my own mother threw me off Olympus..."

"And a massive idiot." He stumbles over his self-deprecatory speech and stares at you. What a clot! You grab handful of his hair on the back of his head, and your second palm lies over his heart. "None of it matters. Although all of it is completely true..." You wink to him.

"I don't understand..."

"Women are not made to be understood, we are made to be loved." He is still frowning, and you chuckle. "Listen, I can tell you whole bunch of theories and explanations of what love is and how it happens. I can even give you fancy quotes, like _To love is to be vulnerable_, or _Love knows no reason_, or even _Love isn't something you find. Love is something that finds you_. But does it matter? No, it doesn't. I just love you, and that's it. You can accept it or doubt it till the end of times, it is not going to change it." You push your hands in his hair and press your forehead to his. "I love you. Do you believe me?"

Something clicks in that big head of his, and he smiles. "I do. And I love you too."

"Ace! And now can we please have sex?" He guffaws and deftly pushes you on the bed.

Is anyone here familiar with the term kiss around the world? Yep, you pinned it. And yes, it is when you are kissed everywhere, literally every bloody inch of your body, while your clothes are slowly taken off you. At the beginning you are trying to participate in it, but when a fit as fuck bloke begs you to let him "see you, all of you" and claims that he wants to learn what you like most to make it worthwhile for you, you don't say no. You arch your back and purr. Most gods find it hard to walk and think at the same time. This one seems to have about twelve hands, very skillful lips, knows how to use them and manages to murmur at the same time. And he is dirty talking and wooing you with the most poetic stuff at the same time. Damn...

By the time he is done, you have been fighting your orgasm for so long, that your head spins. You just can't help it anymore!

"Take off you kecks right now, or I'll forget it's a no magic sex!" Common, what's taking him so long?! Your whole body is so heated the sheets might be on fire. Or that's him doing it. Because he is actually very hot. And temperature wise as well.

He pushes his trousers off, and hello, the hammer! Gods, you are a very, very luck girl… You lick your lips, and he looms over you. There is a small pause, and you understand.

"It won't hurt, Heph, I promise!" There is something hilariously reversed in this statement. He is still doubting, and you wrap your hand around his cock. Gods, it is so thick, long, hot, silky!... "Please, Heph, please..." You spread your legs, and he pushes in. With every inch of his slow movement your body is buzzing more and more, some energy accumulating in your core, you are stroking his hair, his eyes are closed, awed expression on his face, and when he is finally fully in, your whole body jolts and arches. A giant explosion of golden energy bursts out of you, and the house shakes! He catches your mouth, and yep, he didn't notice that the glass in the windows just got blasted out, and he starts moving.

It is divine! There is no other word for it! You lift your hips to meet him, every cell in your body is singing, his lips slide on your neck, and then he catches your earlobe between his teeth. His skin is getting hotter and hotter, and somewhere in your dazed mind you note that there are black spot under his elbows and knees on the sheets. He is literally burning the sheets! It is in no way uncomfortable, you are surprisingly compatible, but he is smouldering! Again, literally. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him impossibly close. Common, just a bit more!...

He rolls on his back, and suddenly you are on top of him. You smile into his eyes. He wants to see you better… And how you know it? Funny, how having his cock inside actually allows you to read his mind... What a nice little side effect. Like a live feed into his very randy psyche. You sit up and ground your pelvis into him... He moans, and his hips buck up. Oh that is simply delicious! Now you know all his kinks! Including this…You lick your lips, pick up his hand and suck on his index finger. He groans, and his cock jerks inside you. Oh yes, Aphrodite knows her stuff!

You move up and down on his majestic cock and feel that's it, you can't hold it anymore. You momentarily think that you should have probably warned him what happens when a goddess pops her cherry, but you don't think he'd care. You press your palms into his chest and pick up the speed. Gods, he is beautiful! Lips slightly open, eyes burning, you catch his mouth, and you both come. Ka... boom!

The energy that has been accumulating in you through the shag erupts, and the roof and half of the wall crumble with deafening rumble. He roars, his cum hitting your inner walls, and the bed bursts in flames. You honestly don't care at the moment, you are mewling through the immense orgasm, but he rolls off the bed, holding you close to him, on the sheepskin rug on the floor. You end up on him, and your body sags, limp and shaking.

The first thought that comes is that it actually seemed to work out pretty well. Obviously the smoke from the burning bed would have been suffocating, but since the house is missing the roof and the wall your arse is currently cooling in the nice evening breeze. The second thought is that you love him so much it makes you completely and utterly giddy! You slightly rise and start peppering small kisses all over his face and neck. He chuckles and cups your face. You give him a wide grin.

"That was amazing! I officially resign! You are going to be the god of shag now!" He guffaws and kisses you thoroughly. You twist your face from his greedy mouth. "It is so much better first hand! I want more! How soon can we have more?"

He is laughing out loud now. "I created a monster!" You lick his neck, and he gasps. "A little horny monster…" He rolls you underneath him and bites your shoulder gently. "And what have you done with my house, little goddess?"

"You burnt my bed!" And then you swear, push him off and rush to the bed. He slightly rises on his elbow.

"Poulaki, what are you doing?" You are trying to come closer to the bed. Bugger, bugger, bugger! It is burning quite vigorously now.

"Can you put it out?" He waves his hand, and the fire is gone.

"Where is it? Where the fuck is it?" You rummage through charred sheets and burnt pieces of covers. Oh thank gods! It's intact. You pull out the vial and inspect it.

"Poulaki, come back to me," he is bloody purring. Oh my sexy beast! "What are you doing there?" You walk around the bed and show it to him. He is still smiling. "What's that?"

"That, my darling, is your immortality that I nicked from Hades." His eyes widen, and the smile falls off his face. You look very, very smug. You stretch your hand with the chain to him, and he suddenly rolls away and scatters to the further wall.

"Keep that away from me!"

Being in danger of repeating yourself, you still have to say it. What the actual fuck?!


	23. Chapter 23

"Heph?" You are standing in front of him like a pillock, in the buff, his immortality dangling on a chain in your hand.

"Poulaki, take that away from me," he pronounces every word separately, his eyes widened, almost terrified, and he presses his back into the wall. He is clearly bricking it! What's the bloody matter? "Please, I'm begging you… I don't want to..." OK, you are obviously missing something. You make a few steps back and put the vial the remnants of your bedside table. It is slightly charred on one side and covered in pieces of the collapsed columns. Awww, you loved this table! Bugger.

"Here, I put it down. Can I have an explanation now?" You make a few steps towards him, holding your hands where he can see them. Honestly, feels like you are talking to a scared rodent, and it is bloody alarming! There is something undeniably disturbing in a hench, six four god of fire who is as pale as Hades and is currently trying to fuse his molecules with the wall. Starkers. He finally blinks, and some colour returns to his face. His eyes lose the terrified glassiness, and he looks at you.

"How?.. How did you get it?..." Alrighty, your explanation is apparently pending.

"I found it on the Isles of the Blessed, Cerberus told me where, so I nicked it. So what's the problem? Don't you want it?" He aggressively shakes his head and throws a cautious look at the vial. What the fuck?! You make another step closer. "The whole point of this whole marriage thing was for you to get your immortality back and go back to Olympus! Here is the vial, you take it, you are a god again… What's here not to like?"

He finally realises the position the two of you are in and stretches his hand to you. "I am sorry I yelled. I am, poulaki, I just..." You give him your hand, and he pulls you on his lap. Let's be honest, you are not resisting. You curl into his embrace, he is very warm, and you wrap your arms around his neck. He sticks his nose into your hair and give out a heavy shuddering sigh.

"What's going on, Heph?"

"I don't want to… To go back to what I was before… Before the mortal life... "

"A god?"

"A god of fire. You didn't know me then... You wouldn't have liked me."

"But you went through with it, I mean, you still agreed to marry me, and it was your condition that Zeus let you go back to Olympus!" You move a bit away and stare at him. You are getting increasingly more and more worried.

"Yes… I need to go back to the Mountain, the boys need to go home, but… I don't want the madness that awaits me there..." He is hiding his face in your hair, but you grab his head and make him look into your eyes.

"What madness?" He sighs.

"Gods are a nasty species, Aphrodite. We are self-centered, self-indulging, cruel, gluttonous... And I was the worst of them. Every horrible, murderous thing that Zeus and others unleashed on mortals, it was all me..." He clenches his jaw. "Pandora, the first woman, who released all the grief and all the evil into the world... I made her... The tortures of Prometheus... Harmonia' necklace... All the weapons that gods wield are my work, and mine alone..." You are starting to understand. You rub his upper arms, and he drops his head. "I have temper, you know it..." You chuckle, and he gives you a small apologetic smile. "But it has nothing to compare with what I was like before… I assure you you wouldn't have agreed to marry me. Neither would you have slept with me..." You are frowning, and he sighs. "I don't want this to stop… What we have now… And I'm afraid it will be gone, once I partake Ambrosia..." And then it bloody dawns on you.

"You were punishing yourself. All this time you didn't use your powers, lived in a dirty little house, and ate manky food… You were punishing yourself..." He nods.

"Once Zeus stripped me of my immortality, he offered to leave me my powers. He is a prick, but he was only exiling me because of Hera. And I agreed. But with time, without all this arsed up godly attitude I started thinking… And I realized what I had been… A monster..." You sharply breathe out.

"Heph, making a weapon is not the same as using it." He gives out a joyless laugh.

"You are going to tell me that I didn't kill all those people..."

"You didn't..."

"And the war of giants I fought in? The Trojan War? How many did I kill then?" You gulp and lower your eyes. "Did you know about the wars?" You shake your head. "I wasn't regretful of it then, believe me. I worked hard and tried to please Zeus. I did all I was asked and hoped to be accepted by other gods. I was to marry one of the Charites, Aglaea, the youngest, the Grace of Beauty. She was just a child, but it didn't even come to my bloody mind to question whether she wanted to..." You jolt but don't look up. Breathe, Aphrodite, breathe through it. You will think of it later. But seriously, that bint?! "And then I fell… And day after day something was nagging at me, more and more, and then I realized what we are… We are parasites in this world. Mortals do not need us. We need them!"

You ponder it, absent-mindedly drawing squiggles on his forearm, and he is pressing his forehead to your temple.

"I was greedy, lustful, cruel, and ecocentric. I hated everyone around, and even more so myself. You would have never… You won't love me when it's back, poulaki..." You cup his face and look into his eyes.

"It won't be back. You've changed. You grew, you learnt..."

"Power corrupts, poulaki. Think about it. Even you, the goddess of love, the most affectionate of them all, when did you remember the names of my nephews?"

"Pretty soon," you sound defensive. "Are you saying I'm a bitch?"

"Aphrodite, I think you are the most loving and wonderful creature in this universe, but yes, you are a bit of a bitch," he smirks with a corner of his lips, and you shrug. He is right after all. But the smile is gone jolly quickly from his face. "You are the goddess of love… And now imagine that my power was fire. Aphrodite, I am a cripple with murderous past and abandonment issues… All I had was fire, and fire is rage." He intertwines his fingers with yours, and your heart clenches from pity and tenderness towards him. He throws a dark look at the vial, "Once all my powers are back, I will be dangerous..." And that's when you've had enough. You push away from him and straddle him. You grab his ear with one hand and point the index finger on the other one at his nose. Have you mentioned you bloody adore the nose? Not the time, Aphrodite.

"OK, I've had it with your bloody self-flogging. Enough!" His eyes widen. "The only flogging that there will be in these relationships is gentle, consensual and of the naughty kind! Like I said to you just before the glorious shag we've had, you are a massive idiot! You don't understand anything, especially about yourself. Let me tell you how it is..." He jerks his eyebrows up, in a funny slightly insecure way, and blimey, you adore the pillock! "You are marvelous! You create the most beautiful things, the jewelry and weapons, and I know what I'm talking about. Beauty is my profession. You are fit, and when you are not brooding you are actually fun to spend time with." One brow twitches, and how did you not see how sexy he is at the beginning? Definitely some sort of mental blindness! "And you are so… cuddly!"

"I am what?" He catches your hands and presses them to his chest. "Are you off your onion?"

"But you are! All warm, and furry, and sexy..." You rub your nose to his jaw, his beard tickling your skin, and you purr. "Yes, you are very cuddly… And sexy… Have I mentioned sexy?" He guffaws.

"Are you in the mood again, little goddess?" You lean in to his ear.

"I am always in the mood, smith," you nip his earlobe gently, and he shivers. "But I am not done talking." You pull out your hands from his grasp and cup his face. "I think, you see it all wrong. What you are right now is the real you. The core, not clouded by the power and the egocentrical mania that we gods are all prone to. You had a chance to find out that about yourself, and you should feel fortunate. And when you get your immortality back," you press one palm over his heart, "You will be a wee bit smarter about it."

You can see in his face that he doubts but wants to believe you. "Will you help me?" His blue eyes are warm and open, and what kind of imbecile were you to think they were icy?

"Every step of the way."

He catches your mouth and then pushes you on the floor. Oh yeah! Round two. In one corner we have a very randy goddess of love, armed with a lot of knowledge and even more enthusiasm. And in the other corner we have a massive god of fire, who is currently sliding down the opponent's body, stretched on the floor, and oh yes! His lips are between your legs, and maybe the two of you don't need to talk. That is a much better use for his very, very talented mouth. Bloody fuck, you are certain that even Ares's tongue in his dragon form isn't that deft. Fuck, fuck, fuck… You come with a raspy scream, and realize that your hands were buried in his hair and he might be slightly suffocated. Oops… He doesn't seem to mind, judging by a cat-like grin. Oh what a fucking beast!

You let him go, and your head falls back on the floor with a dull thud. You didn't bloody see stars, you had a full tour through the universe. He is gently kissing your thighs, and then his fingers slide on the soil of your foot. You giggle and kick. He is too strong and quick, and soon enough you are squealing and wiggling, while he is torturing you. You want this torture till the end of eternity. At some point he catches your foot, gee, his hands are like steel shackles, and gently bites the heel. That earns his a kick into his nose, but he is like this super sexy mountain lion. He shifts, and the kick misses its goal. And then his mouth is pressed under your knee, and who knew it's a sensitive area? You should know actually, you are a goddess of everything sensitive, but you are having way too much fun to analyze anything!

He slows down, small kisses and bites pepper on your stomach, and you arch into him. He is murmuring, "Did you know that according to Russians, the ticklish women are the jealous type?" Did he know if one starts with "Did you know?.." it most likely means they probably want to talk about it? Does he want some confirmation that you feel territorial about him? He doesn't know anything yet.

"First of all, duh! I know all love related superstitions. And you bet, I am the jealous type!" He lifts his face, mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Should I worry?"

"Yes," your answer is so decisive, that he starts laughing. "No, seriously, you should be very careful. You might think you are a big bad wolf here, rage and shite, but you can't even imagine what I'll do to any bint that might seem a wee bit loose around you." He chuckles and places an open-mouthed kiss on your stomach.

"Good to know." You don't need to read his mind to know that he thinks that no bird would be interested in the, arguably, unattractive limp smith in dirty clothes. You decide to keep him in the dark regarding his mind-blowing sexiness. For now. You are not done enjoying this being-just-the-two-of-you yet.

You beckon him up with your finger, and he smiles, moving up, leaving a trail of hot kisses up your skin. Gods, he is so fit! His skin heats up under your hands, given you are very thoroughly exploring it. Yum. It is your turn, and you are bloody enjoying it! He is panting under your hands and lips and is thinking he is a very lucky god at the moment. Mostly there are some short inarticulate whimpers in his consciousness, but altogether he is really appreciating you right now. And how do you know it? Remember, you get the live feed when he is inside you? Yep. And he tastes amazing!


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Thank you for all your reviews, my duckies! I simply love how you express absolutely opposite opinions on Heph's future :D It is Day Eight, and it's time to up the stakes! The next chapter is a wee bit of a curve ball, but so far let's let our lovebirds enjoy their bliss :)**

The Sultry Saddle, the Spider, the Speedbump, the Edge of Heaven, and finally your favourite, the Hovering Butterfly. You two fall in the sheets, and he moans. That doesn't sound like sound of pleasure anymore, he is knackered. Let's face it, even your godly energy is almost exhausted. Bloody hell, the deus is a sex machina! He pulls you to him, and you snog for a bit. It's getting heated again, but you need a bloody break. And he needs a supper. He ate his brekkie, lunch and his cream tea in bed, that explains the bloody crumbs stuck to your buttocks, and honestly, how long he can go on without a nap? You consider clobbering him to the head to jam his hype!

"Heph, Heph..." He hums into your neck, his hand pointedly sliding down. "Seriously, how are you still going?" He chuckles into your skin.

"You keep me inspired." You chuckle and push him away.

"You need a nap. And I need a bath," he opens his mouth, no doubt to offer to share it with you, and you quickly conjure a scone and push it into his mouth. He chuckles and bites a generous piece. He looks so adorable with his cheeks stuffed like a hamster, that you can't help it and peck his lips. He chews and hums in bliss.

"Is it a crumpet, my crumpet?"

"It's a scone, and you are a duffus. And no, you are not going to the bath with me. It will be bloody counterproductive. Keep your grabby hands to yourself and chew."

You climb out of the bed, it takes three attempts, he keeps on dragging you back for a quick snog, and finally sink in scorching fragrant water. Since you are supposed to watch him eat, he is sitting on the bed with a tray on his lap. You lean back and stare into the starry sky.

"Are you going to fix this?" He makes a questioning sound. You point up with your leg. He is staring at the leg. "The roof, you plonker. Are you going to fix your roof? And the wall while you are at it."

"I like it like that. It's a nice reminder," he cocks one brow. Bloody hell, he makes you randy by literally moving one brow. And though on the outside you are all cool and regal, inside you are a quivering puddle of adoration.

"Where are your nephews by the way?" You realize that you spent the last twenty four hours blasting off the walls and loudly legging off. There were screams, groans, and yelling of various obscenities. It turned out you are rather descriptive in the throes of passion. Oopsie daisy.

"I sent them off last night," he yawns in all his wide, white toothed cakehole. "I was planning to do some groveling, didn't want them to hear you telling me to bugger off."

"Sorry to disappoint you. Did I ruin your plans for the evening, love?"

"Yep," he pops the word, and it sounds so unbecoming that you crack up. "My evening and my house." You two smile to each other, and then he yawns again.

"Seriously, you are flagging. You need your kip."

"Are you going to tuck me in?" He is giving your his best catlike grin, and you stick your tongue at him. "If you think that showing me your little pink tongue, now that I know what you can do with it, will convince me to go to sleep, you are cruelly mistaken."

You grab your sea sponge and hurl it into his head. He is like that super speed crab, and it's clasped in his hand. It's wet though, and soap squirts into his clock. You are laughing, and he growls. Boom, you have to deal with a six four gropey god barging into your tub. You squeal, kick and throw suds at him. Yep, rub-a-dub loving! Yay! After the Sea Horse and the Hot Seat which turned out surprisingly ace even in water, he is finally out cold, and you are having you time. Meaning you work. Bloody hell, being in relationships is knackering! He is so cute though when sleeping. You ogle him for a wee bit, seriously, look at those lashes, you bet all goddesses were jealous, bloody mingers, and the lips, and the relaxed face, and the dark silky waves on the pillow, oh sod it! You slide under the blanket and curl into him. He wraps around you without waking up, and it's like lodging with a squid. You are like a toad in a hole where you are the sausage. And it's actually brill! Who knew... Since you don't sleep you just bury your nose in his neck and close your eyes.

You wake up with a jerk. What the actual fuck?! You fell asleep! Like really, like a mortal, like asleep asleep. You even had a dream. Something vague and naughty. You stare at the smith, he is still sleeping, and climb out of the bed. You feel bloody ace though, so there is nothing wrong with you. Not some poisoning again at least. Judging by the light outside, and inside too since half of the house is missing, it is just after dawn. Day Eight. Three more to go. You wander downstairs and into the kitchen. His chlamys is still on the peg, and you gently touch it. And no, you are not a sappy divvy bint! You run your hand down the rough fabric, and then you feel the presence behind.

"Are you actually trying to sneak up on me, sheeplover?" You turn around and look at the empty room. Damn his cap of invisibility! "I can hear your ones and twos." Hermes jerks the cap off and looks you over.

"You are positively glowing, little goddess." Have you mentioned you are starkers? And there is a lovebite on your neck. You kept it. It's wicked. You cock a brow and a tunic hugs your body. It's a good one, you can't wait to show it to the smith. Hermes gives you a mischievous look. "It would seem you were meant to come to the smith. Fate is with you, Aphrodite. It has been eight days, and you do not seem in a hurry to leave."

You sit on a chair and gesture him at the other one in invitation.

"What brought you over, Messenger of the Gods?" You go for his official moniker, no need to be rude, but seriously, what's with all the sheep?

"I came to offer my advice." You are giving him a sceptical brow again. He ponders you. "So this is your purpose, to charm the smith and to stay in here till the end of your wager. There are some who would not deem it wise."

Let's face it, you like Hermes. He always looks like he is taking a wee bit of piss out of you. You like funny blokes. But at the moment you are getting slightly miffed. Does he need to talk in riddles all the time?

"Spill it, bird shoes." He gives you a look from under a lifted brow. And still the smith does it better. And some other things. Concentrate, Aphrodite! But seriously, his skill in the Corridor Canoodling, hot damn! "You have approved the wager, you bore witness to it. I get to choose my husband after ten days, easy peasy, what's here to worry about?"

"And will it be Hephaestus?"

"What of it? My win, my choice."

"Aphrodite, do you honestly think Zeus will take it kindly to your winning if you do not even want your prize?"

"I want my prize! I want my right to choose what to do with my life and my fanny!" He slightly cringes. Posh tosser. "Alright, so it happens that my prize and my ante coincide, touch tits! I am fed up to the back of my teeth with him bossing me around!"

"And Hera?"

"What about Hera?"

"She is hoping you would win and her son would stay strained in his half-mortal existence. Zeus desires the smith's return, he values his services. Nonetheless, he would not want to spike his wife." Yep, no wonder they say it's unwise to seek the counsel of Hermes, the bloody Messenger of Gods, for he will answer both yes and no.

"Is Zeus still squirmy after having it off with Kallisto?" Hermes ignores your question. What a ponce! And the barmy slanted brows!

"By wining and choosing Hephaestus you will enrage both of them. It's a dangerous move, Aphrodite. I suggest you leave his home before the end of the wager. Zeus's irritation is more dangerous than Hera's loathing, Dove of Olympus."

You tilt your head and smile pleasantly.

"What's in it for you, trickster?" He gives you a long pensive look and sighs.

"I like you, Aphrodite. I would hate another to take your place. You are very welcome to stay here, if that is your wish. But you are taking a dangerous path." Yeah, maybe you are a bit of a bolshie these days. But damn, you are so tired of all this godly shite!

"I will remember your advice, Leader of Robbers and Thieves!" He cocks a brow again. There is a lot of this going on today, it seems. Alright, you admit, his is pretty wicked. He gets up and gives you a courteous bow. And before you can answer, he clears off. What a ponce! He is right though. You are in an aggro.

You work for couple more hours, whatever they say you are an expert. You forward couple of the doves to Eros, answer all applications, scold couple of the doves that managed to pick up some rubbish somewhere. Seriously, it says that some Spartan prince died and left you his palace and his gold, you just need to send his scribe a few drachmas! And what's with all the bloody phallus enhancement?! You are done, and you stretch your back. You consider joining the smith upstairs, you can almost feel his hot skin under your hands, when there is a sudden thunder and a lightning bolt hits the floor a foot aside from you. What a flashy harry! Zeus is standing in the middle of the kitchen, in all his monochrome grey glory, and gives you a smirk. Wanker, wanker, wanker!

"Aphrodite, my dearest," he leans in and kisses the air near your cheeks.

"Zeus Almighty, can I help you?" He gives you a benevolent smile, all crinkly eyes and good humour. Bloody prick.

"It remains to be seen. I'm looking for someone to share in my elevensies."

"It is surprising you are here. I thought I was not to leave this house under any circumstances in the next three days." He opens his mouth, when the door flies open, and you are both presented with the view of the smith, thankfully in his trousers, but closing the fly might have been a good idea, and his hammer buzzing and glowing in his hand. Then he sees Zeus and lowers the tool. Ehehehe, the tool. Seriously, Aphrodite, what are you, a mortal child of twelve?

"Good morning," the smith's voice is confused.

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" The smith blinks and plops his hammer on the table with a bang.

"None of them, I suppose," the smith's tone is dark. "Was just trying to be polite. I haven't seen you in centuries, old man. To what do I owe the pleasure?" His tone clearly signifies that he doesn't get any pleasure from this visit. Well, you know his pleasures pretty well by now, the visit from his tormentor is not one of them obviously. The Tilt-s-Whirl on the other hand...

"I have come to borrow our lovely Aphrodite for a couple hours. Worry not, it will not influence the arrangement between you two." The smith heavily sits on a chair.

"Do you mean the wager between you two?" Bloody Hades, again! Hello, you are in the room! Stop trying to outalpha each other and remember that Aphrodite here has some right too! Hello! Nope, still the piss contest, one is brooding, another is crinkling his bloody eyes. You are so not impressed!

"Alright, if it doesn't change anything, I'll go with you and have that tea." Zeus shifts his eyes at you and gives you one of his barmy smiles. Has he been inhaling Pythia's smoke again?

"Lovely. I have a new cook and there's a lot more to him than appearances suggest. And he's got a great deal more to offer than any of us know, including himself. I am certain the meal will be exclusive." He stretches his hand to you, and you put your fingers onto his palm. The last thing you see before Zeus apparates you two away are the smith's blue eyes. They are icy yet again, but you think you see some vulnerability hidden there. A great share of betrayal too. But what else were you supposed to do?


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: My darlings, I seem to have some troubles with my FF account so I do not get any notifications :( I try to keep track of reviews and followers, but if you are new and I haven't greeted you, I am deeply SORRY, and WELCOME! I love you all and hope you are having great time!**

**A/N#2: Just4Me and GuestReaderA, you are right, it is indeed Elrond as Hermes! Well done!**

**A/N#3: GuestReaderA, all the positions are real. And I did use google for research as well. Except for the Dolphin. I share Phro's preferences :P**

**A/N#4: Thank you all so much for reading, you make me so happy! All your reviews are so kind, and I feel so warm and fuzzy inside! :***

After an hour of decorous tea sipping and gossip exchanging you are bricking it. Where is the hidden poo in this situation?

"Fancy some honey in your tea, dearie?" You choke on your biscuit, remembering the smith languishly licking honey off your stomach. You politely refuse and hide in your cuppa. "So, how is your cohabitation with our darling Hephaestus? Give me the best details, and remember, all good stories deserve embellishment. I am sure you have a tale or two to tell of your own."

"It's ace," you are aiming for nonchalance. "I might even last till the last day." He is giving you a skeptical look. You are dangling your foot and proceed to enjoy another biscuit. You are not a divvy bint! You need to figure out what his game is first.

"Ares told me you seem to be more than ace. I believe the term he used was in cahoots." You lift your brows. You'd expect a "trollop" and "lechery". The war god is a posh tosser after all.

"You didn't say I'm supposed to spend all these ten days hating the smith's guts."

"Of course I did not. But I also didn't expect you to boff our dear limp. Obviously he needed it, but I honestly didn't expect you to go for him. You rocked his world. As well as the Mount Olympus, darling. The plates were clanking in cupboards for hours afterwards, and they say Bacchus fell of a settee." Oopsie daisy. "Did the Earth move for thee, Aphrodite?"

"Ew, no, I'm not discussing it with you." You take a dignified sip from your cuppa. "And yes, he is that good." Zeus's eyes are twinkling. That is never good. Bloody Hades, it won't end nicely. The problem is that the wanker will never call off the wager even if he is obviously losing. No, not our dear Zeusy. He will cheat. He waves his hand, and a pair of bracelets appear on his palm.

"A gift for you two, Aphrodite. Matching bracelets. To show that I am not a sore loser." Why does it feel like a big fat bloody trap? Because it bloody is. You cautiously stretch your hand to the jewelry, and he snaps one of them on your wrist with a freakish speed. Oh it is so dodgy your goddess ESP isn't just jingling, it is a full scale red alert! He smiles and hands you the second one. "I suggest you put it on your lover boy a.s.a.p." Red alert, red alert!

"Why?" You sound bloody squeaky.

"The spell will start working in an hour. You do want him to wear it when it kicks in." He sips his tea and smiles over the rim of his cup. Alright, he is immortal, but you still can give him a blackeye!

"What the hell have you done?"

"Nothing that would tarnish the conditions of our wager. Still Aphrodite and Hephaestus, stuck together in a house, sharing meals, and as it turns out now, having a bit of a fling." The bracelet feels very iffy. "Do not worry, it will expire on the morning of Day Ten. You might even like it and ask to borrow them later. No more details, you'll see everything yourself." Arrogant swine.

You put your cup with a clank on a saucer and glare at him. "Can I go now?"

"Of course, darling, you are no prisoner here or anywhere else. You can come and go any time you want. But so you know, once the spell starts working, it can be broken only one way." You are taking slow cautious breaths in. Firstly, you are in jitters. Secondly, you are trying to stop yourself from ending the git. "If you leave his house. Not him, you have to put enough distance between you two. I ignored your trip to Hades, obviously you didn't choose to go, but this time it'll count as a defeat. But everything will be back to normal."

"What will be back to normal?" You don't get to finish your question, you are already apparated into the smith's kitchen.

It's empty, and you hear deafening banging in the forge. Someone is not in the mood. You have no time to deal with his bloody sensitivities. You apparate downstairs, quickly ignore the fact that he is shirtless and sweaty, oh Aphrodite's ovaries are in trouble, and jump on him. He gasps in surprise, and you click the bracelet on his wrist. You open your mouth to explain, but he grabs your under your arms and plops you on the nearest table. He spreads your knees, and you decide to postpone the explanation. He catches your mouth but there is different vibe from him than before. He is mad. You ponder if you want angry sex with the smith, and decide that no. You push his upper half away, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist though, and grab his ears.

"We are arsed. Zeus is planning some new shite, and we need to coordinate." The smith is snarling, but then he blinks and concentrates. Good boy.

"What new shite?" He still sounds raspy but more sane. You wrap your arms around his neck. That is a lovely height of a table, by the way. Absolutely perfect. Get your mind out of your gutter, bird! You quickly and gently kiss him, he is immediately leaning into you, poor affection starved puppy, and before he goes for a full scale snog you let him go and pull his arm up. You show him the bracelets.

"There is a spell on them. Can be broken if I leg before Day Ten. He didn't provide any details, but it'll kick in any moment. Since he is the god of everything, all we can do is roll over and endure. He said it won't change the conditions of the wager at least."

The smith suddenly grows paler. "These are the bracelets of Tiresias." Oh no, not that! Not a sex swap! You growl.

"He can't do it! He can't change our genders! We technically don't have them! We are celestial beings, for fuck sake!"

"I am not. Not fully..." The smith gulps.

"You are still theoretically not male. Your mortal body at the moment maybe, but only that." And then you get it. Oh poop.

The bracelets warm up on your wrists, and you close your eyes. Oh Zeus, you wanker! How many more bloody cliches, banalities and disgustingly predictable plot twists do you have to endure in the course of ten days?! You feel momentarily very dizzy, you think you might vomit, and then the world return to its balanced state. Except you are facing the opposite way now. You open your eyes. You are standing between the legs of a gorgeous redhead. You bloody hate Zeus. Wait, is that how you look from outside? Hot! The redhead opens her eyes and stares at you in shock. Her first words confirm all of your worst suspicions.

"Damn, I look worse than I thought." Her voice is melodic and very, very grumpy. You groan and press your palm to your forehead. The redhead's face scrunches adorably. "Please, don't do it. It is way too melodramatic and looks so wrong..." You give her a glare.

You step back and square your shoulders. Wow, so much physical strength. You look at your hands. You bet you can break that log over their over your knee, and then you wonder if you can lift a table when you are shaken out of your thoughts by a snarky remark.

"You look way too chuffed for this, poulaki. Shouldn't you be more upset?" You ponder for a mo.

"Not really." Wow, his voice sounds so wicked from inside. And damn, so hot! "I mean as a gag that was mean, but I can't say that is that bad."

"What?!" The redhead squeals in indignation. Should you say Heph squeals in indignation? Wow, that sounds so wrong. You look at her… him? Oh bloody Hades.

"I mean, that's inconvenient..."

"Inconvenient?! I am in your body!"

"If it makes you feel better, you have my permission to touch anything you want." That stops him… her? Oh whatever. It stops Heph from yelling although he obviously was planning to. He freezes with his mouth half open. Wow, those are very, very sexy lips. Oh sod it! You step forward and press your mouth to hers. His… Honestly, you don't give a shite at the moment. It's Heph inside anyway. He grabs the back of your head and takes over the snog. Gee, that is so fit!

"You are scratchy..." He mumbles into your mouth.

"Tell me about it." You cup her face and try to spread her knees with the second hand. He pushes away.

"No, that's just wrong..."

"What? Have you never kissed a man?"

"No, and it's not just a man, that's me, and it's not even a bit erotic, believe me… No, sod it, it's too weird..." You press your fists in your hips and cock a brow. And since you know how it looks, you are bloody enjoying the gesture.

"We are living in Ancient Greece, we are no cavemen! Heph, everyone is fine with non-binary genders and pansexuality these days."

"I am not a homophobe!" Heph folds his slender arms on his glorious tits. Sod the pronouns! Seriously, you can't stop staring. That is such a fit ickle body, and the neck is long and elegant, and you just want to suck on it. Wait, that's his hormones talking. Makes sense, it is much more overwhelming for them. She is pouting, and you suddenly imagine spreading her on this table. You don't know how it feels but you are eager to find out. And then you have this funny feeling on your trousers. Oh! That's a biggie. Oh, that's so uncomfortable and wicked at the same time! Poor bunnies, how do blokes even do it?

"I am not saying you are a homophobe, I am saying you are looking at it from the wrong point of view," you purr and step a bit closer. If his body you are in reacts to your body he is in this way, fuck such a long explanation… Anyway, you know for sure what to do. You lean in and stroke her leg with your hand. Slowly, up from the knees, and then brush your fingers on the buttock. She stares at you, and her breathing is shallow. Oh it's going to be so much fun! You move your face very close to hers, your eyes meet, and you whisper, "Heph, it's still me. And we have one and a half day to enjoy this. We can take it as Zeus's stupid joke and be po-faced about it, or we can have fun..." You carefully lean and gently kiss her neck. Let's face it, you know just the spot.

Heph drops his head back and sighs. "Is that what you feel when I do it?" Her voice is breathy, and you smile into her skin.

"I am sure you do it much, much better, but if you let me, I'll show you a couple things that I really, really appreciate." He straightens up and cups your face.

"I am really not sure..." Her eyes are vulnerable, and you momentarily wonder how you can still see him behind the green irises. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but shagging this..." He gestures on his own hairy chest. "And what if I break something… It's your body after all…"

"You won't. But if it makes you feel better we can wait till the day after tomorrow, and it'll be gone." She frowns, and it is so cute and you can't help it and quickly snog her. You move back, and she looks pretty dazed.

"That is bloody mental. I need to process this. Can I have some time?" Her tone is almost apologetic.

"Sure," you bump your nose to his. "Do you mind if I take a bath? I mean I honestly don't mind being in your body, but I can't be that sticky, sorry." He nods. "Do I have your permission to touch everything?" A giggly playful tone totally doesn't work in his voice. He looks slightly alarmed. You chuckle, and he smirks.

"Sure. I think best when I work, but I guess..." He looks at his hands and sighs. "I'll just stay here and work on some schematics."

You nod and apparate in your attic. Then you conjure yourself a nice bubble bath and jerk off his trousers to get into the water. Oh hello, Mr. Hammer! You should behave, you don't want to violate his trust. But seriously, it is right there. And you are curious… No, you are going to be a good girl! Or boy. Damn gender binary idiomatic expressions! You step in and sink into the soapy goodness. It feels much cooler in his skin, and you close your eyes.

"You seem to be rather comfortable in a room that doesn't belong to you, smith." Ares's sarcastic voice makes you jump up and open your eyes. He is standing in all his glory, the shiny helmet on his head, the sword and the shield in his hands, a foot impatiently tapping. "Well? Did Cerberus get your tongue?"


	26. Chapter 26

"What do you want, the Beastly One?" You add an indecent amount of acid into your tone. Hell with it, you just love Heph's arrogant, sarcastic tone. So bloody sexy!

Ares gives you a deadly glare. Let's face it, this unblinking stare makes him look even more like a bloody lizard. Slug.

"Get up and fight like a man, cripple. There is no skirt to hide behind here! I smell you. I hear your breath. I feel your air. You are afraid." What a bloody creep! You get up in all your impressive height. Well, Heph's height. You want to look threatening, but water trickling down his cock is so ticklish, seriously you don't know how men do it, that you giggle. Never under the worst of tortures you'll admit to him you made his body giggle. He'd probably never shag you after that. Ares's jaw slacks, but he quickly schools his grotty face into an arrogant grimace.

You lift your chin and announce, "I am not fighting you, bloodsucker. We have nothing to compete for." Is this the shite blokes tell to each other when they are after the same bird? How are you to know? Sounds legit. "Leave my house. You were not invited, you have to right to enter."

"Impressive, what else will you claim? That I am to stay away from your woman?"

"Aphrodite belongs to no one but herself." A wee bit of education on women's right, if you please. Wanker.

"Keep you pussy-whipped rubbish for later when the ginger scrubber is around." What? Firstly whom is he calling a ginger here? Soulless dick. And a scrubber? Really?! You thought he was much more classy. You'd expect him to at least go for a "trollop." You clench a fist and step out of the tub. You are so going to punch his sodding conk in tee time three seconds! "Have you forced yourself on her already like you did with her closest friend? Is she aware of your bit off of the other with Athena? " What? What the fuck?..

The door bursts open, and Heph is standing at the threshold. Well, you are. Bloody hell, this is really not the moment to bother with the fucking details. Did Ares just say?!..

"Ares," Heph snarls through his teeth, and honestly you look adorable. Anger suits you. And no wonder, at the moment you are so enraged you think you are going to start breathing fire.

"He just asked me if you happen to have forced yourself on me like you did with Thea!" You roar, and Heph jerks. If you weren't imagining tearing his head off at the moment, you would crack up at the Ares's gobsmacked face. Heph grows pale. He is in no luck today, your face shows emotions much better than his. And you are reading your own cute clock like a book! You step closer to him and point your finger at his nose. "Is he telling the truth, smith?" The enraged growl in his voice so bloody fits your current mood!

He lowers his eyes, but then quickly glances at the god of war frozen in the middle of your attic, his jaw hanging somewhere at the level of his pecker.

"Get stuffed, plod." Ares is still immobile. Heph turns to him and yells, "Get out of my house, before I broke every bone in your fucking body!"

And here Ares makes the biggest mistake of his life. He decides to go for "saving his dignity and looking godly" option instead of "sodding off saving his arse" option. You suspect he might be a bit thick. Again, at the moment you don't bloody care.

"There is something about you today, Aphrodite," he is still talking to your body, meaning he is addressing Heph. "Something you carry. Something made of fire. But far more… precious."

A terrifying tornado of fire explodes around formerly your body, and swirling on one spot Heph hurls a wall of flame towards a very surprised god of war. Ares squeaks like a little girl, no offense to any little girls here, and tries to apparate. He is not fast enough. Before his shapely arse disappears from the attic, you see his hair catching fire, and he is gone, but his shield falls on the floor with a clank. You suppose it got too hot for him to handle. You would laugh at your own pun as always, but at the moment you are too wound up.

It hurts. It fucking hurts. You sway and sit on the edge of the bath. You don't care you are in his bloody body, it feels like your heart has just been put through a meatgrinder. There are tears running down your cheeks, but you don't fucking care!

"Poulaki..." Your own soft tone makes you suddenly livid. You jump on your feet and rush downstairs. You again forgot that you can apparate. And that you are sort of a naked bloke at the moment. All you want is to put a great distance between you two and end this. Anything for the pain to stop.

"No!" His voice is panicked. A small hand grabs your arm, and you swirl on the spot. You are just trying to free yourself, but it is not your body, and he is so much larger. You hear a slapping sound and realize you just smacked your body across the face. It sobers you for a nanosecond, and you turn around. Heph is standing, his hands pressed to his cheek, green eyes giant. Wait, your eyes are giant. Oh bloody fuck, you are so at sixes and sevens…

"It hurts," his voice is surprised. Of course it bloody hurts. You are not a hench bloke made of fucking rocks and metal bars. Has he seen your delicate bone structure and pale skin? You are a naked nerve. You make another step back, breathing heavily, away from him, towards the door. "No, poulaki, wait..."

"Don't call me that..." Your voice is shaking, and you choke on your own tears.

"Zeus will win if you step off my land, is that what you want?" You make another step, and your back bumps into the entrance door. A sob bursts out of you. It is low and throaty, and at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing how he sounds when he is bawling.

"I don't care… I just want to leave… I don't care anymore..."

"Aphrodite, it wasn't what happened. You have to believe me!" He stretches a hand to you, and your hand lies on the handle of the door. Common, Aphrodite, you can do it. Push the bloody door, make a few steps, and you are back to your body, you are back to normal. You will think of something, to rid yourself of him, you will beg Zeus on your knees, beg Hera, offer her your girdle, anything, anything to never see him again...

"Aphrodite! Think about it, she wouldn't have treated me the way she did in front of you if Ares had been telling the truth. Would she allow you to spend ten days with me had it happened?" That makes you stop in your tracks. Thea is your friend, she would never let you lodge with a nonce! You give him a cautious look from the corner of your eye. His jaws are clenched, eyes are burning, small fists clenched on the sides on his body.

"I want my body back," you whine quietly, "It is so wrong..."

"I know, poulaki," he speaks in a soft tone and takes a small tentative step towards you. "Poulaki, let me explain, I am begging you. Please, let me tell you the truth..." You suddenly feel weak and slide on the floor, your back scraping the door. You feel sick, and your arse is sticky. Right, you were running around in the buff with suds drying on your buttocks.

He kneels in front of you and cups your face. "Poulaki…"

"You have a minute, smith." You want to sound badass but you are pathetic. He nods and apparates the two of you in the bed. You should protest and punch his lights out. But firstly, that's your body and your lights so to say, and secondly, you just want this to bloody stop. You are having a bad day here… He somehow managed to clean you while apparating, and you are even wearing some sort of trousers. You don't give a fuck. You curl in a ball, and he covers you with a blanket. He sits near you, and his hand starts running through your hair.

"Bacchus got me arsed up," his voice is quiet, and you peek at him from under the blanket. Your own face looks arse scary with this dead expression. "And your friend came to me. She was starkers and very fit. She was very convincing..." You are not sure you want to hear the rest of this story. "She… " Your own delicate throats moves, as he gulps. "Let's say it would have ended differently if she hadn't use her hands so much. She jerked me off, and my spunk fell on the Earth. A child..." His voice breaks, and you just want to crawl somewhere and die. "Erikhthonios, born of Earth and no parents... She brought him up, she felt responsible... She came to me and asked to back her up. She would tell I forced myself on her, and I quote, so that she didn't look like the cunt that she was. Turned out Zeus set her up. First he send Bacchus to me, and then told her I had some new weapons for her. Might have hinted to her that I fancied her. She is a bit of a slag isn't she?" She is your best friend, but she most definitely is. You don't answer and hide your nose under the blanket. "We both just tried to show some sort of decency here, poulaki. She took care of the boy, I backed her up. And Zeus spread the rumours as he always does." He grinds his teeth, and you feel like crying again. You are so tired of this convoluted, arsed up divine life.

You two are silent for a bit, and he gives you a sad look. You have no energy, every muscle hurts, and all you can do is lift the corner of the blanket in a clear invitation. He slides on the bed near you, your bodies intertwine, you are so knackered that you don't care that you are hugging a small redhead and feel like a giant polar bear here. You catch his mouth, and he pulls your head to him. His small hands feel so reassuring in your hair, and you sigh into his mouth.

"I am sorry, poulaki. I am sorry you got dragged into it..."

"I don't care… Please, I don't give a shite about anythig right now… But I need you now..." He rolls over you, and you half notice that you really don't weigh anything on him.

"Aphrodite, I can't… I am you… I don't know how..." You cup his face and make him look into your eyes.

"It is still me, Heph. And it will come. You just have to trust me." His eyes widen, and he gulps. "Do what feels right, and again," you give him a shaky smile. It feels like you haven't smiled for a few centuries. "You know better than I do what will feel ace." You cock a brow, and he chuckles.

"So that is how I look when I do it..." You lift your head and snog him a bit.

"Don't tell you don't practice in front of a mirror." He guffaws. Sounds adorable in your voice. All silver bells and throaty chuckles. And then he straddles you properly and snogs your brains out. In a few second you both are panting, and then a tunic sort of melts off his body. He freezes and then stares gobsacked at his tits. Your tits... Oh sod it!

"Where did it go?" You chuckle. Oh, the sexy throaty chuckle!

"You know when you do this," you run your hands over his shoulders, stroke the collarbones, and then gently cup his tits. He moans and drops his head back. "And then your cock gets up and jerks?" He moans, supposedly agreeing. "Well, the disappearing tunic is the equivalent of it. It means you are randy and want to jump my bones."

He opens his eyes and looks at you. The eyes are dark and hungry. Mamma mia, your body with a stuffing of god of smithery is a hell of a combination! Gee, hot, hot, hot!

"I do want to jump your bones," his tone is almost menacing, "I am starting to think I might be able to ignore this..." He gestures over the hairy chest. Oh, before the spell is done, you are so getting yourself a couple hours of quiet and thorough wanking. Honestly, you want to touch bloody every inch of what he just gestured over! But first… You sit up and place a few open mouthed kisses on his neck. Your trousers over your chopper and under his fanny are suspiciously wet. Ace.

"Allow me to diminish your observational skills a wee bit more..." You purr, you do know what his voice does to your body, and you lean him backwards, catching his nipple in your lips. He throatily moans and grinds his pelvis into you. Check and mate!


	27. Chapter 27

You catch a burning small ear between your lips, and he moans quietly. One of your hands slides into his hair, at the nape, and the long black lashes flutter. With the second palm you stroke the shoulder blades, and there is a soft purring sound in her chest. Correction, his chest. "I am so doing this when I am back into my body..." His voice is breathy and raspy. "It feels amazing on your side as well…"

"You bet," you gently kiss the neck, "I like doing this… Do you like my back?.."

"Your shoulder blades drive me bonkers, poulaki..." He buries his fingers in your hair and straightens up. He presses his forehead to yours and smiles, "I suggest you go for your glorious breasts..." For a mo his face is pensive. "Are they technically mine now?" You really don't give a shite. You cup them, and he inhales loudly. You chuckle, and he cocks a brow. Let's face it, in your body the gesture works just as well.

"No wonder you like that so much," he retaliates with scraping his nails on the back of your head, "Feels wicked..." You brush your thumbs on the nipples, and he gasps.

And then with a double pop two gods apparate into your attic. Bacchus, his barmy two-eared hat askew, and Thea, in her glowing armour, both start yelling at the same time.

"Phro, don't listen to the wanker Ares! Nothing happened! Zeus set him up!"

"Zeus is setting you two up with Tiresias bracelets! And he is sending Ares to you!"

Heph and you are frozen in the aforementioned compromising position, and then Thea grabs the bracelet from Heph's wrist and throws it on the floor. She jerks her sword out of the scabbard and hacks the jewel. There is a bolt of lightning, some deafening thunder, and sparks spurt out of it. The twin bracelet falls off your wrist. And you are straddling Heph, fingers in his glorious mane, his hands on your tits. Damn.

Thea suddenly drops her sword on the floor with a clank and presses her palms to her mouth. "Fucking Hades… I just went against Zeus's direct order. And I broke his toy!" Her eyes are panicked.

Heph exhales in relief and falls back into the pillows. "Thank gods..."

You are dischuffed. Honestly, you just started bloody enjoying it! "Hey! I was having this nice gay moment with myself here! What the bloody hell?" But then again, it's nice to be home. You grab your tits and sigh in relief. "Oh my lovelies, I missed you!"

Thea is still mortified, but Bacchus is paying attention.

"Wait… So if that is you," he points at you with his finger, "And that is you," the finger pointed at the direction of the smith, "Then when we came, you two..." He makes this eloquent gesture, his arms bent in the elbows, and it looks like he is skiing.

You and Heph answer at the same time, you with a frustrated "Yes!", he with a defensive "No!" You press your fists into your thighs. By the way he is still between them.

"What do you mean, no? We very much bloody were!" He throws his arm over his eyes and emits a pained groan.

Thea is momentarily distracted from her lament. "Wicked! Quickly, tell me, what does a boner feel like?" Smart girl, Thea! You open your mouth, but the smith quickly sits up, yay to his abs, and clamps his palm over your mouth.

"You are not discussing my cock with your friend!" You are giving him a sarcastically lifted eyebrow. His face grows pleading. "At least not in front of me… Please?"

You kiss the palm and nod. He lets you go and quickly pecks your lips.

"Thank you!"

"Gods, I disobeyed Zeus!" Thea is back to her spun out squawking. She is mental. But noble. She did try to help. You turn to her, but then suddenly Heph grabs you into a bone crushing hug and rolls you underneath him. Huh? Are you knobbing after all? But it turns out he is stuffing you under a sheet. Oh right, you are starkers. Berk. You kick him off yourself and jump off the bed.

"Stop manhandling me, you tosser! I am not a sack of bloody potatoes!"

"You are naked!" Oh what a adorable possessive numpty!

You conjure a tunic and give him a scornful glare. "They both have seen me in the buff more than you have. And you could have just asked."

He mumbles under his breath. He was probably going to apologize but got sidetracked by the idea of others seeing you naked. Seriously? You are the goddess of shag. Kind of part of your job description.

You come up to Thea who is quite obviously hyperventilating. You blindly stretch your hand backwards, towards Bacchus and wiggle your fingers. He gets the hint immediately and pushes a wine bowl into your hand. You shove it towards Thea, and she empties it in three giant gulps.

"How arsed up am I?" She gives you puppy eyes. You give her a firm hug.

"I won't let him touch you." Her gorgeous hazel eyes fill with tears, and you stroke her hair. You are bricking it too, your mind looking for a solution in panic.

"Blame it on me. Tell him I made you do it." Heph's calm voice from the bed makes you swirl on your heels. Thea stops hiccupping and stares at him too. Even Bacchus pauses his loud slurping at the background.

"You'd do that for me?" Thea sounds completely shocked.

Oh you love him so much at the moment! You squeal, run up to him and throw yourself on his neck.

"Love you! Love you so much! Thank you! Oh thank you!" You pepper his face with kisses, and he smiles to you. It is a big deal, there is nothing Zeus hates more than someone botching up his games.

"Oh gods, thank you," Thea sags on the nearest bench. "I could honestly kiss you right now..."

"Don't even think about it!" You growl at her and go back to kissing his neck. He is spread on the bed, your hands pressed into his shoulders, and he looks pretty chuffed. Maybe those two should get stuffed…

"Well, with the crisis averted, there is only one thing to do..." Bacchus gets up and lifts his goblet. Please, say it's shagging! "Party!" You look at Heph, and he facepalms himself. Your thoughts exactly.

You wake up in the morning of Day Nine sprawled across the snoring smith. Hm, you fell asleep again. But this time honestly doesn't count. You drank a Baltic Sea of booze. Damn, you both were so bladdered that it didn't come to shagging. You lift your head and stare at him. You might be ogling him. You are definitely ogling him. And your chest is heaving. Let's be honest, have you seen him? There are flowers braided in his hair. Adorbs! There is also a glittery scarf around his neck and a coral pink friendship bracelet on his wrist. You have the matching one on yours, and you smirk at the irony. There were a lot of nymphs at the yesterday's do, they love this stuff. You look around your attic. Barmy… There are some mental vines growing on the wall, the bed now has a canopy of purple passion flower plants, ace by the way, very appropriate. There are goblets and confetti scattered everywhere. Fauns quickly made a Twister mosaic on the floor yesterday, that was fun! They all really tried to flaunt their flexibility in front of Thea. And couple of satyrs had this MC battle! That was so awesome! You were sitting on the smith's lap, clapping loudly, and honestly, how could you have been so blind?! Where were your eyes when you thought he was grumpy and an oik? The bloke is a killer at parties. He outdrank Bacchus! That might explain the coma though.

You kiss the scratchy cheek. His nose twitches adorably in his sleep, but then he rolls on his side, wrapping around you, and you are pretty much in a straitjacket of six feet four of sexiness. Damn, he is hot. At the moment you are mostly concerned temperature wise, you are boiling! You try to wiggle out of this panini press. Bugger, you didn't gain an inch of freedom. You give in and snuggle into him. Purr, your sexy ball of suffocating, scorching hairiness!

You wake up, and yeah, you stopped even questioning it, from the feeling of searing lips exploring your nape. Well, howdy! Dog's bollocks, goosebumps run down your back, and you arch, pressing your backside into him. And howdy, Mr. Hammer!

"Morning, poulaki," he is pretty much purring into your ear, and you rub your buttocks to his very, very impressive cock.

"And morning to you too, big boy." You throw your arm back around his neck. He chuckles into your skin.

"Why do I have a feeling you are not talking to me?" His hand is bunching up your tunic, and then there is a knock at the door. What?! Seriously?! The smith seems to be sharing the sentiment.

"Even if you are Zeus Almighty, sod the fuck off!" He yells, and you think you might have gone a bit deaf. Again. Seriously, such lungs! This time you don't mind. "I am planning to shag the most crack woman in the world into the sheets until she screams my name in ecstasy, I do not care if someone is here at this stage! Won't stop me!" Swoon! And then hot! Is he a bit of a weenie wagger? You really don't mind!

There is silence behind the door, and he goes back to groping your arse. And biting your ear. Oh, he did pay attention while you were swapped. Mamma mia! He rolls over you, and supporting himself on his elbows, he deftly pushes inside you. You might have spread your legs invitingly. Oh bollocks, fuck, fuck, fuck! This is so delicious! He sets up quick forceful rhythm and sooner than expected you are indeed screaming his name. You bend your legs, and he growls. And then he pushes his arm under your stomach, and pressing you into him firmly he gets up on his knees. Your arse is hanging in the air, you are pressing elbows into the sheets, and he grabs your hips with his large, hot, orgasmic hands, and oh my, you believe this is the Kneeling Wheelbarrow, and it is mind-blowing! You come with a scream, and he follows in a giffy. You two fall into the sheets, and he arranges you on his chest. You honestly can't remember lying down and not being curled into him, all fitting like a jigsaw puzzle, and you sigh happily.

He is lazily running his fingers through your hair, and you nuzzle him. He smells nice, black cardamom and some of the essential oils everyone was sampling last night. That reminds you, you really need a bottle of that kukui oil. You can't wait to rub it into every delectable inch of the smith, and then let him take his turn. His hands are ace on your skin. His soft voice shakes you out of your daydreaming.

"This is Day Nine, poulaki. Have you thought what you are going to do?" That's a million drachma question, isn't it?

You honestly haven't gotten a clue. And then to your complete shock you hear your own voice, "Dunno… What do you think I should do?" Are you seriously asking him for his opinion? That's a first. Judging by his hand suddenly squeezing your shoulder, he understands the importance of the moment. You are bloody including him into your life choices, he better appreciate the honour! He kisses the crown of your head.

"I am worried that you might piss Zeus off if you stay here after Day Ten and then still choose me. I can't let anything happen to you," you lift your face and look into his eyes. They are artless, and you feel a prickle of some strange foreboding. "If you have me," he is hilariously insecure. Oh my lovable puppy! "If you still want to marry me, maybe you should leave tomorrow night, let him win the wager. He is unpredictable when spited." You sigh and prop your chin on your fist on his chest.

"I don't want to…"

"I know, love," he strokes the back of your head, "But give it a thought, please. I have a bad feeling about this." You look into his gorgeous blue eyes, and then you pounce at him, all grabby hands and greedy lips, and he seems all for it. You are snogging, rolling on the bed, hands roaming, legs intertwining. Why can't you two just stay here forever? His stomach growls, and you chuckle. That is one of the reasons.

"You need nosh, love," you grab his ears and make him look at you. He is trying to twist out of your grasp and is quite obviously aiming for round two. "Heph?" His poor tummy makes another desperate attempt to attract his attention. He groans.

"Alright, I'll eat. But I'm not done with this conversation!" Is he talking to your fanny? Seems so. You giggle and conjure him a breakfast. He settles down, leaning on the headboard, you snuggle under his arm, and you two are thoughtfully chewing.

There is another knock at the door, and he makes an exasperated sound. You stroke his forearm soothingly. "At least they knock. Remember when Ares and Hades would come, they just barged in." He rolls his eyes, which is so barmy of a gesture on him that you crack up.

"What is it?" He sounds profoundly miffed.

"It's Killilos, uncle. We need to talk." You freeze with a slice of mango between your teeth, and your stomach clenches. You really, really don't like the boy's tone. The smith tenses and sets his plate aside. You have a cowardly thought that maybe if he doesn't open the door, it can still be just you and him in a bubble of lovey-dovey goodness. It is too late though. He conjures a pair of trousers, you cover up with a sheet, and he opens the door.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Well, ****my lovelies****, this chapter is a Kaaaaa... :D And those of you who read my Modern AUs* know that it means soon we are having a BOOOM! :) And then a knees-up and a happily ever after (Duh!) :D **

*** ****A question****: What should I concentrate on after Phro's story is over? Dr. T/Wrennie or Alfirin/Thorin in **_**Life That Never Was**_**? Both stories are waiting for an update and I'm equally inspired. Leave a vote in a review! :)**

**A/N#2: By the way, those of you who read **_**Touch the Nerve**_** etc. you do realize that Jimmy from the Genetics, Thea's boyfriend, was named after Jimmy Nesbitt and looks accordingly, right? And now add two plus two, and tell me whom Thea always ends up with :P**

**A/N#3: Name "Thales" is the closest translation of name "Thror" I could come up with :)**

They are talking quietly for a mo by the door, and then Heph looks inside. "Excuse me, poulaki," he gives you a soft warm smile, "I have to take care of this." You smile back and blow him an air kiss. There are these adorable little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and one of the black brows twitches. You guess you just got promised a mind-blowing shag for when he is back. Ace!

They leave, and you jump out of the bed. You need a bath and perhaps couple nymphs to brush your hair. You wander downstairs and find fauns and nymphs playing poker at the kitchen table. They cheer, one of them has pink knickers hanging on his horn. There is couple of nymphs canoodling on the bench in a corner, and judging by the squealing and splashing, there is now a pool in the yard. You step outside, stretch and enjoy the sunlight. The birds are singing in the cedars, and life is good!

You see Bacchus on a garden settee, the usual wine goblet in his hand, Thea is reposing in a hot spring bath not too far. There are a few nymphs playing water volleyball in a giant poor, and there is small band. Altogether, a lovely next day do!

"Phro! My girl, come and join me!" Thea is slihgtly arsed, cheeks blushed, and her glorious bosom in the bubbly spring water is probably making that little faun in the corner of the pool very uncomfortable. Since they don't wear pants, he'll be sitting in water for a while. You slide in the tub near Thea and close your eyes.

"Phro, my darling, you look radiant! Have you been rampantly ravished?" Thea becomes very posh once she is slightly squiffy. You chuckle and open one eye. She wolf whistles and raises her glass. "To Phro, the goddess of bonking and knobbing!" The party cheers, and you laugh. And then your goddess ESP beeps.

"So, Thea, where have you spent this night?" You know the answer to this question by the way, but you just like to see her squirm. She feigns nonchalance, but her eyes momentarily dart towards the god of winery. Seriously, how's she the goddess of military strategic thinking? She would be a shonky spy! "Interesting choice, my darling, I though you are into blondes."

She sits up and leans closer to you. "Listen, I am bricking it here. I might have been very emotional yesterday, said things, made some promises… I am still in jitters regarding the bracelets, and he also came to help you, you know… Once I heard Zeus telling Ares to go to once again talk sense into you, I immediately assumed he'd drag that old story out… You know, with you looking like the smith, it obviously would make it easier for Ares to arse up your relationships. And so I dashed to you. Don't know how Bach found out, but I mean, that was nice of him to try to help you too, right?" She is so adorably hoping for validation, that you pull her into a tight hug.

"I am very grateful that you came. And I'm sure Heph is too." And then you finally wrap your mind around "Bach"! Oh that is beyond cute! How does he call her, you wonder?

"He is not so bad," Thea's voice is pensive.

"What do you mean, we've known Bacchus for centuries. He is an ace bloke, especially if you are not looking for anything serious."

"I am not, but I wasn't talking about him," she gives you a serious look. "The smith… Is he treating you well? I mean we are talking grave shite here, chick, marriage and stuff..." You bite your bottom lip and give it a thought.

"He is absolutely perfect, Thea. I am very happy." She exhales in relief.

"Brill," she stretches back and drops her head on a pillow on the edge of the tub. "No more meaningful conversation, only knob talk!" She looks at you askew. "Tell me about his willy."

You open your mouth to flip her off when the porch door opens, and the smith comes out. First thing you notice that he is limping even more than usual, and then you suddenly feel very cold. His face is dark, eyebrows drawn, and there knots of muscles on his jaws. Bugger…

"Everybody out!" His voice is raspy, and you see his hands are shaking.

"Heph?"

"Out!" His voice suddenly gains volume, and he pretty much roars. "I don't want to see a single arse in my house or yard in three seconds!"

"Hey, man, what's your problem?" A really bladdered faun claps the smith's shoulder, and the smith grabs his horn. He hurls him across the yard, and someone shriekingly scream.

"Get the fuck stuffed from my land!" He is terrifying, the roar enraged, heat radiating from him in waves, and everyone starts running around in panic. Some faun is trying to grab goblets from a table, and a nymph gets toppled over into the pool. The smith grabs an edge of some table and throws the offending piece of the furniture several feet away. Bowls and platters fly in the air, wine spills, and people starts bolting. Suddenly there is Bacchus standing in your tub. He wraps his arms around completely confused Thea, and he gives you a questioning look. You shortly nod to him, and he apparates them both out of the yard. In a few seconds full of squeaks and sounds of falling furniture and breaking glass, it is just you and the smith.

You apparate near him and touch his shoulder. "You too goddess. You can go." What?! Firstly, what does he mean, go?! And secondly, what's with bloody dismissing you?!

"What's happening, Heph?" He jerks his arm from under your fingers.

"Nothing. I just want you to leave. Take your stuff from the attic and get out. Go back to Olympus. The deal is over." The fuck?!...

"Heph..."

"Don't call me that!" He yells and turns away from you. "It's over, I'm done with you. Leave." His shoulders are tense, and you are suddenly livid. He is throwing you out!

"Well, I am not done with you. What is going on? You need to talk..."

"I don't need anything from you," his tone is flat and dead. He is obviously delivering lines. His massive fists are clenched, nails digging in his palms.

"You need to stop this right now, Heph, and talk to me. Is it Hera?" His body jerks, but he doesn't turn back to you. "Is she making you do this? Is it the boys?"

He suddenly swirls around and grabs your shoulders. He is hurting you, and he knows that. He means it. His eyes are suddenly very close to yours, and you shrink away.

'"What is not clear here, goddess? I am throwing you out. I'm done with you. I had my fun, and now you are dragging your sad arse back to the Mountain. Tell Zeus the deal is over. I am staying here, and you can do whatever you want with yourself." He pushes you away from him, as if in disgust, and starts walking back to the house. He must have forgotten with whom he is dealing at the moment.

A ball of your magic hits his back, you are very careful though, he stumbles, his knees buckle, and he falls on all four on the ground. You scoot in front of him and grab his ears. You make him look into your eyes. You are still controlling your rage. So far.

"Tell me what's going on. We can deal with it. You just need to tell me what's wrong. We can do it together." His face wavers for a second, but then he clenches his jaw.

"What's here not to understand, goddess?" He is sneering through his teeth. "I am done with your fanny, go whore yourself somewhere else. I'd rather stay here than go back to Olympus if it means marrying you."

Seriously, does he honestly think you are that thick? You let go of his ears and cup his face. A grimace of pain runs across his face. You stroke his jaw with your thumbs.

"This is your last chance, smith. Tell me what's wrong, and I'll share anything with you. Don't think me divvy, I see through your pathetic attempts to insult me. You are not even that inventive. But you are hurting me. You are giving up on me." You think you might be seeing tears in his eyes. "So, one last time, what is the matter?" You can see doubt obviously written on his face, he is fighting with himself, his whole body shaking, and your goddess ESP feels his pain and his love for you, but then he drops his head. Your fingers brush his skin for the last time, and you understand you lost.

"Leave, goddess, it's over." And indeed it is. You rise on your feet. And momentarily think of kicking him in his defenseless stomach. Or saying something. Something pompous and passive aggressive like "You are giving up on the best thing that could have happened in your life" or "No one will ever love you the way I could," but then you just silently apparate from his house and into your villa in Cyprus.

You are so numb that you spend twenty minutes in the same pose, staring at the wall, and then you drop on your knees on the floor. He gave up on you. They obviously threatened him with something, Zeus or Hera, or Ares, or Hades, but he let them! He didn't discuss it with you, didn't start plotting with you, didn't even try, he just bloodt gave up on you! He gave you up… You wince expecting pain to rise in your chest any moment but it doesn't come. And then you are suddenly scared that you went into Numb Phro mode again, like the time he broke your heart and you turned into a soulless bitch. But no, you are feeling fine. You are feeling everything, but there is no pain. You mind is railing, you need to think.

You sink in your favourite armchair, pull your knees to your chin, and take measured breaths in. You have two choices. Get up and fight for him. Find out what happened, solve the problem, somehow outsmart a whole bunch of cunning bitch gods, you apparently lost a wager with Zeus, and most importantly forget the fact that he abandoned you. Because he did. He didn't even try. You told him of the wager, you were open with him, you asked for his advice, you let him in. He gave up on you so easily. Did Hera threaten the boys? Probably. Maybe his sister. Maybe even you. He obviously is freaked out, but in his place you would have told him. At this moment you clearly understand that you would have fought for him. And with him. You would have told him everything and tried to join your forces. You would have wanted him on your team. He didn't. Do you want to fight for a man like that?

Option two is easier. Give yourself couple of days, take baths, brush hair, work, sort out your thoughts, and go to Zeus to negotiate your next step. You probably still need to marry someone. Or very much possibly he will let this slide, since you are probably less attractive to other gods now. You hardly think Ares and Hades are going to be ripping each other's heads off for you now. You might be left alone. Well, not alone. You are pregnant. Oops, have you forgotten to mention it? Yeah, you realized it in the hot tub with Thea. It was just suddenly clear as day. You can hear the tiny heart.

You press your palms onto your stomach and murmur, "It's going to be OK, little one. We will figure it out, just you and I. Mamma will take care of you, Thales."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: So far _Life That Never Was_ is winning. **

**Sorry, UKReader! Worry not, Dr. T will get his share at some point as well. I was ****actually ****planning to make _Heal All Wounds_ the last in the series, but yesterday I was peeling potatoes (I LOVE peeling potatoes :) and the most glorious idea for a sequel came to me! With the kiddies and stuff!**

**A/N#2: I might have seen way too much Cumber!Smaug and John!lock stuff on DeviantArt yesterday, so I regret some lines in this chapter! (No, I don't! Muawahahaha! :D)**

**A/N#3: Thales means "flourishing" while Thror means "budding, growing rapidly." I thought it's fitting :)**

In the morning of Day Ten you take a bath, allow the Charites to style your hair, conjure a new golden tunic, down to the floor, heavy turquoise bracelets clasped around your wrists. You send the Charites away, not without giving the youngest of the three chicks a good look over. Aglaea, the Splendour, was supposed to be the smith's wife. Hm… She is fit, you'll give her that, curvy and spunky. You remember he called her a child. Apparently, he has always been a bleeding bad judge of character. The ambitious sparkle in her eyes makes you think, and a very interesting plan starts forming in your head. Hm…

You look at yourself in the mirror. You are glowing, skin radiant, eyes bright. The small ball of fire growing in you gives you new strength, and you smirk darkly. You are very, very pissed off. Olympus will fall, Aphrodite is not amused. You clench a fist and with pleasure see small tongues of flame dancing around it. Oh, that is brill! Having the smith's blood circling in your veins makes you this awesome fire mutant. Aphrodite is here to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and she's all out of bubblegum.

When you enter his office, Zeus is erotically whispering something into his secretary's ear, yuck, sod it, and yeah, you didn't knock. The slag of the nymph jumps away from the Almighty, and you give her the stare. She squeaks and scampers. Zeus opens his mouth to no doubt pronounce one of his annoying convoluted banalities but freezes with his mouth half open. He must be slightly alarmed by the flame dancing on the floor. Oh, this? No biggie, just the footprints of Aphrodite, former goddess of love, and currently a very irritated goddess of Titans know what. BBQ probably, considering how much the temperature rises when you enter a room.

"I came to tell you, the Ruler of Gods, that our wager is off, and since I have not lost, I demand my right to choose my husband." He closes his cakehole with a clank, and quickly gathering his wits he decorously lowers himself in his ponce golden chair. Posh wanker.

"Aphrodite, darling, some wine?"

"I'll refrain, but I'll have some mango juice with crushed ice." You need vitamins. And you are now constantly hot. Speaking of a bun in the oven.

He pours your juice and gives you an attentive look over. Have you mentioned you stopped by at Temmy's before coming here, and she gave you this ace vial that is currently hanging on your neck and hides Thales from anyone's manky godly eyes? Yep. Having the goddess of fertility and virginity as one of your closest friends is a big advantage. How do you think Thea is still considered the virgin patroness of her city? Zeus obviously suspects something is iffy, but even he isn't that good. Temmy might be batty, but she is an expert.

"So, why do you think you have won this wager, Aphrodite? You are after all here, not in the smith's house, and ten days are not over. You lost."

"But I did not leave the smith's house. He threw me out. The wager is over." Zeus opens his mouth and then closes it again. You sip your juice. You know you decided you are never saying it again, but who da man? "And besides, the smith asked me to tell you, and I quote, he'd rather stay in his mortal state forever than return to Olympus if it means marrying me." It should hurt, but it doesn't. You are pissed off. You are so pissed off that there is no room inside your noggin for any other emotions. Two things matter these days, your son and sticking it up to a whole bunch of sodding Olympians. And former Olympians as well.

"What have you done, Aphrodite?" Zeus looks at you suspiciously. Poor sod. Yeah, it really sucks when your plans go pearshaped, doesn't it Zeusy? You shrug and take another sip.

"I did what every self-respecting girl should do in relationships. I was myself." Your smile could probably be described as snake-like. At least that's what you are aiming for. "And while we are at it, I know that it was you who poisoned my roses." You have to give the tosser some credit, not a muscle jerks on his benevolent, grey bearded face. Wanker.

"Do you now?"

"Uh-huh, I gave it some thought and realized it could only be you. You needed me to run from there, you wanted to frighten me, but you knew Hephaestus would save me. Poisoning healing is after all his specialty. No one else would dare to poison a goddess. But there is no one above you, Zeus." He smirks. "No one to punish you for this horrific crime. Except..." He is waiting. You take a sip. Poker has always been your favourite game. "Even you are not above the laws of a noble wager. And I have not lost."

"Neither have you won. You did not last ten days."

"No, I didn't. But don't you want to get rid of me? Think about it. I know you wanted the smith back, but this option is unfortunately currently unavailable. Go for the second best. Marry me out. The engagement party is already planned and paid for. Why waste a great do when you don't have to?" He is pondering. And three, two, one…

"Alright, say, we go with this plan. Tomorrow night, a big party, and you will announce whom you are marrying." You nod. "And who will it be, Aphrodite?" He is really overacting, with the whole soft, Grandpa tone. Ooph, so grotty.

"That remains to be seen," you gracefully put the glass down and rise. He gets up as well, manners matter after all. Self-assured tosser. "See you tomorrow night, Zeus Almighty. I'll be the one in white."

He narrows his eyes. "You've changed, Aphrodite. You're not the same goddess as the one who left Olympus ten days ago. You seem very cold." Can he be any more wrong? You smirk.

"I grew up. And now excuse me. I have a husband to choose."

You apparate to the entrance to Hades and bang at the door. A small slot clanks and opens, and you see a very dischuffed eye peek out. And immediately the mood of the bloke on the other side changes, and you can almost imagine a large tail wag energetically.

"All right, Cerberus? Time to go." The door bursts open, and you look up at the beaming clock of the massive tattooed warrior.

"Where are we goin'?" He grins.

"First, a walk, and then we'll be back here in a giffy. And I'm appropriating you from your master." He is almost bobbing from excitement. To be precise, nothing changes in his scary arse disposition, but you are good at reading people. And dogs. "But first, we need a bargaining chip."

You apparate you two in Demeter's garden and have a quick chat with Persephone. She is all emo, yuck, seriously cut down on eyeliner, chick, and writing Hades's name in a small notebook. Seriously?! "Mrs. Hades" in red and black ink. Are those roses and thorns? Mental bint. They are a match made in Heaven. You feel sick, and it's not because you are preggo. After very successful negotiations with the barmy chick, you go back to Hades and get yourself a dog. Hades is all giggly and rushes to a backroom to brush his hair and polish his crown in preparation for his beloved's visit. If you were him you'd pluck your eyebrows too. With this matrimony arranged, and no, you are not coming anywhere near its consummation, they will have to find themselves another shrink, you travel home with a very chuffed Cerberus. By then you are knackered and need a nap.

By the time you wake up your loyal doggy has already dragged what you asked for home. Filippo is disheveled and stares at you in shock. "My lady?" You seat him in a chair in front of you, and you two have a long chat. The bloke breaks pretty quickly and tells you that nothing has changed in the house after you left, except the smith is not working anymore and has been drinking ever since. Apparently neither Filippo, nor his brother seem to be in any danger. You send the blonde away and sit down to strategize. Well, you are filing your nails but it always helps you think.

Before you sent Filippo away, you showed him a couple portraits. Whatever manky poo is happening these days, you still have a job to do. He seems really psyched about Aglae, you are so not dwelling on the Freudian aspect of the fact that he is after the chick that was engaged to his uncle. Ew. You gave him your blessing. Not before providing him with a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of the best Agiorgitiko. Banalities work, and let's face it, Charites are hot as fuck but there is really not much in their noggins. This one was going to marry the smith, how daft one should be to even consider that? Exactly.

You have one last god to give the third degree to before you are a hundred percent sure that Hera is your perp. Ares is in the gym as usual, bashing brains out of some gormless looking demigod. Gee, the bloke has issues. You can't help but notice that he is in the buff. Damn the Greek tradition for athletics in the starkers! And you are very randy. It's the hormones, and you jerk off the choker from your neck. You are so hot that you feel gold will start bubbling on your neck soon. Sod the bleeding smith's genes, so inconvenient!

Ares notices you standing in the doors and smirks. Yeah, he can look as smug as he wants but his hair is shorter. You guess it doesn't grow back that easily after the smith gives one a haircut with his fire. Your fingers itch to try yourself, but you school your face in a pleasant smile.

"Hello, Bringer of Much Weeping," he steps closer, his smooth chest glistening, and damn your hormones! Altogether he is like that triple chocolate lava cake, somehow you always manage to burn the inside of your cheek with it, and you know you will be sick when you are done with it, but whatever you tell yourself, there is a bit of drooling.

"Do you think flattery will keep me from throwing you out, goddess? And what are you doing here? Should you not be in the cripple's home scrubbing his floors?" Rude, mate, very rude. And you did indeed do a bit of the very floor scrubbing he hints on. It was bloody rewarding. Especially in the Kneeling Fox position.

"I left. And came here if you haven't noticed." You add some lilt into your tone. Yuck, using your females charms, you should be fucking ashamed of yourself. What will the ladies at Lesbos think?

"I don't think so, the Gentle One. He sent you in here to do his dirty work while he skulks back on Earth. Are you here about the payment for the spear?" Do you look like a chav to come collecting payment? What the fuck? He picks up a towel and starts cleaning up. Yum, look at these narrow hips! Shut your gob, libido, we have bigger problems here! Yes, he is like a marble statue, but seriously...

"That is the last thing I am interested in, the Reaper of Men." You purposefully arrange yourself on a bench by the wall, all the right curves and angles, and he gives you a suspicion glance from the corner of his eye. Wow, how can one be so hot and so creepy at the same time? The vibe from him is just wrong… Wait... "I have considered my position, and decided I will announce my husband tomorrow."

"I got the invitation," he grumbles.

"What invitation?" You don't remember approving anything.

"An hour ago, Hermes dropped it off." Ares points at a white square on a table. Hm, that is obviously Zeus's doing. Well, at least the paper is expensive. In golden ink it says: _Aphrodite's Engagement Party. The husband-to-be: TBA. Olympus, Earth. 8 p.m. Athens time. _"He is making the round, visiting all gods, giving them out." You can bet your best foot spa basin that the smith's house is a part of Hermes's round. Bugger. He is probably so bladdered though that he won't notice. Retreat, retreat, not thinking about it, no stress, you need to stay calm and focused. You are building a person inside. Back to the matter at hand.

"So, are you coming to my party, Ares?" He shrugs.

"Do I have any choice? As far as I understand Zeus expects us all to come and congratulate the two of you," he sneers through his teeth and throws the towel through the room. "I always considered you smarter, Aphrodite. You are being used. You are only ever a means to an end. The coward Hephaestus has weighed the value of your life and found them worth nothing." Well, that fucking hurt. He is obviously just blabbering but you do feel a wee bit insecure today. Bloody smith made you doubt your worth. You clench a fist and imagine setting him on fire. And Ares too. Oooph, you are so blood-thirsty today, blimey...

You get up from the bench and smooth your tunic. Quite obviously this one is clueless. There is nothing dodgy about him, he is just a high-functioning sociopath. You highly doubted the nimwit could have had the capacity to make the smith sod off, but you needed to make sure.

You are suddenly tired and just want to go home. Have some galaktoboureko, revani or maybe koulourakia, maybe some sweet tea… Wait, what?! That's food! You are craving mortal food! Given it's all bloody pudding stuff, so that's pregnancy cravings, but nonetheless, that's mortal food! What the fuck is going on? You get up and start walking to the door. You are so bent out that you forgot all about the god of war.

"Is your little annoying sidekick going to be at the party?" He tries to sound miffed, but your love goddess ESP suddenly starts ringing deafeningly.

"Whom are you talking about?" You give him a look over. Is that a bloody blush on his pale skin? Honestly, one can cut their hand slapping these cheekbones.

"I don't know his name… The little one, keeps running around, copper hair, curly…" He makes a supposedly nonchalant gesture around his head. He also should stop breathing so heavily if he wants you to believe in his pretense.

"Eros?"

"I said I don't know his name! Has a bow..." His noble nostrils flare, and do you detect a slight arousal? Yes, yes, you do. Oh, he obviously has a weapon kink. Oh! Now it all makes sense. Marrying you for the sake of keeping Eros near…

"Have you considered just asking him out?" He stares at you mortified. "I don't know... A nice romantic walk to a shooting range, a bit of wine? I can vouch for you." Ares is very pale, and his mouth opens and closes in an uncanny resemblance to a cod.

"What?... No! I wasn't... I..." Would you look at that! Such lovely and even more so very convincing squeaks! "I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your concern, I'm really not looking for any..." Mumble, mumble, mumble... You pat his shoulder, suddenly in a good mood, and apparate home.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: To congratulate my darling ****RagdollPrincess**** with an amazing achievement in life, her OC Reese is sauntering through this chapter in the shape of Thalia, the oldest of Charites (Aphrodite's court ladies), the Good Cheer personified. I firmly believe no one is as perfect for a certain dark haired prince as her :)**

**A/N#2: The wreath from this chapter is real! In 2011 a golden myrtle (Aphrodite's sacred plant) crown became a part of an exposition in the Oxford University Museum. It belonged to Queen Meda, the wife of Phillip II, Alexander the Great's father, and can easily be googled. It's gorgeous and perfect for Phro. After all, Heph poured all his touchy feelies into it! :P**

You decide to accept the fact that you are sort of mortal these days, damn the smith's prolific cock, and are sitting on your bed chewing your second xerotigana. Alright, fifth. Oh, who bloody counts! There is a knock at your door, and you stuff the plate under the bed. The middle Charite, Euphrosyne, peeks in. "My goddess, your watchdog is back."

"Send him in." She wrinkles her delicate nose.

"He is treading mud on the carpets, by the way, and he ate all the food in the pantry. And he refused to take a bath and shook the water off his fur in the hall."

"He is a dog, Euphy. They tend to do it."

"He was in his human form!" She shakes her head and disappears. You chuckle. He is adorbs.

The git stomps into your bedroom and gives you a small bow. There is a sack in his hands. He looks very proud of himself.

"My lady, just like you requested, a little something from Aeaea."

"Did you have fun? How many noggins did you have to knock off for it, my friend?" He smirks darkly.

"Aye, it was nice to go out after all this time. I was getting rusty in the bloody underworld." You fish out your plate from under the bed and hand it to him. His eyes fire up, and he licks his lips.

"Thank you, Cerberus. I appreciate it." He bows and disappears no doubt to loudly crunch on your xerotigana in the kitchen. The cook adores him, although he tends to pillage her cookie jars, so he might get some finikias as well. You put the sack aside, and there is another knock at the door. It's Euphy again.

"My goddess, there is a parcel for you."

"Send the courier in." She giggles and blushes. What a clot.

"It's not a courier. A young god delivered it. He is still in the parlour." You lift a brow. "He is very cute. Dark haired, and..." Another daft giggle. "Very fit." You can bet a thousand drachmas it's Killilos.

"Send him in."

The boy appears couple minutes later, there is bit of lipstick on the corner of his lips, and the colour is definitely not Euphrosyne's. The oldest, Thalia wore it this morning though. The boy is bloody good. She is the brightest of them all. He gives you a low bow. "My lady." There is a gorgeous thyine wood case in his hands, and you immediately know what's inside. Bugger.

"Evening, Killilos, is that my wedding wreath?" He nods and approaches. You open the box and press your palms to your lips. It is a diadem of hundreds of golden myrtle flowers and leaves, intricate and elegant. It seems that the wind can rustle through them, and at the same time they glow of the brightest golden hue. It is beautiful, and it is perfect. You pick it up from the case and notice your hands are shaking.

"Yesterday morning I came to tell uncle that the case was delivered. He finished the wreath just before it." He uncomfortably shifts between his feet. You are still holding the wreath in your hands. Every tiny leaf is perfectly crafted, the flowers, it seems, could start emitting the familiar aroma any second, and you gulp. You put it back in the case and exhale.

And then you lift your eyes at the boy. Self-control has never been his forte, and he blurts out, "He is miserable! Drinking for the last thirty six hours, smashed every single plate in the house. He is scary to be near, and Filippo the wanker bolted yesterday..." He bites his tongue, "I am sorry, I shouldn't have..."

You have already pulled yourself together. "Filippo is running an errand for me, don't blame him. And actually I have one for you too," you heavily sit in a chair. That has been an arsed up day, you are so knackered! You have to admit it. By now it's obvious you need kip, just like the smith. You have a few ideas on why. But first you need to deal with Hera.

He places the case with the wreath on the table and sits in a chair near you. "Anything, my lady."

"Firstly," you conjure a hankie and wipe his clock. He blushes. You tut-tut and show him the smeared lipstick. "Keep your gropey hands from my Charite."

"She grabbed my collar, dragged me in a closet and snogged me!" Atta girl! The boy is hot as fuck. They will look ace together, she is all perky, curvy and dark eyed, he is strong, wide-shouldered and agile. You like Thalia more than her sisters, there is a sincere bubbly joie de vivre in her. And the noggin isn't empty either. You are pondering Killilos and then decide to trust your gut feeling.

"I need you to find out what happened with your uncle. He cancelled the wedding, and you need to help me figure it out." The boy blanches.

"You want me to ask him?" He is bricking it. Makes sense, the smith is bleeding terrifying in his best of moods. You get up and take out a bottle from the sack Cerberus delivered. Thick dark red wine is sloshing in it.

"Keep your hair on, boyo. This is special wine, spiked by none the other but Circe. Remember her, she poisoned my roses and almost burned off your hand? How is it by the way?"

"It's fine," he shows it to you. You pick it up and run your thumb over the middle of his palm. It is fully healed now. Thalia is a very lucky girl. He has the same hands as his uncle, strong, long fingers, elegant masculine wrist. There are callouses from the forge, and you smirk. She'll like the feeling of them on her bum. You let it go and pat his shoulder.

"Give the wine to your uncle, and he will tell you anything and everything. I need to know what frightened him so much. Does he drink at home?"

"Yeah, he can't be arsed to go to a boozer. Just conjures a bottle after bottle and downs them." You are so whooping his arse for this immature rubbish when you are back together. And then perhaps just whooping his arse. You are momentarily distracted by the memories. Oh the glorious backside of the god of smithery! And you miss the bird's nest! Wide, warm, hairy, so nice to sleep on, his heart beating evenly underneath… You are suddenly so sad that you drop in a chair and sniff. Damn hormones!

Killilos kneels in front of your chair. "I'll do it," he takes the bottle from your passive hands, "I will get it out of him, and I'll report to you." You nod and sniff louder. He wipes tears from your cheeks gently and picks up your hands. "Everything will be alright, my lady."

You are just so cream crackered. You are hot, your feet hurt, and you are hungry. All you want is everything to be OK, and the smith to be near you, and nothing to have happened. You want to curl into him and forget about anything and everything. Ooph, you are so off the trolley these days! You sharply inhale and pull yourself together. Sod it, you are done with the waterworks! You give the boy a firm stare in the eyes.

"I need you to do it tonight. Tomorrow early morning the latest. I have lots to do, and I need the data. Are we clear?" He nods. "Ace. Now go to my Charites, they will give you a dove. Once you have the info, text me." He nods again and rushes into the parlour. Something tells you it's not about the dove. You crawl back into your bed and conjure another plate of sweets.

There is some giggling in the parlour, and you hear Thalia's fake strict voice. "Are you mental? You can't carry a dove in your hand, it'll escape. Put it into the pocket, in your trousers!"

"I could have anything down my trousers."

"Yes, you could. But we will look into it later. At the moment off you go, you have a job to do." Did you mention you love Thalia? The chick knows how to party but she has her priorities straight. Judging by the noise, Killilos apparates away, and the Charite comes in with a knock.

"My lady, do you want me to prepare you a bath?"

"Can you sit with me, please?" You sound pleading but you are preggers and your relationships status is pish, and seriously, can your situation be any more balls up? You are entitled to a bit of self-pity. She perches on the edge of the bed and conjures a brush. Oh that's a bliss! She is brushing your hair, and you feel the blood finally circulating in your scalp. That makes your mind a wee bit less muddled. "Tell me, Thalia, if for example you happened to fancy a bloke and to be with him you had to live on Earth and would need nosh and kip, would you go for it?" She is giving it a thought. Good sign, only dimwits answer right away.

"If he was worth it, then yes. But I mean, if I still had something to do, besides popping his sprogs and cooking, and had my friends, then yes. Good men are rare." She really wants to ask but keeps her gob shut.

"There is a chance that after tomorrow's party a theoretical chick who happens to want to be with the god of smithery, or, I don't know… any of his nephews, might have to make such choice." She is pondering it, running the brush through your strands.

"And what choice would you make were you that theoretical chick, my goddess?" You catch her gorgeous dark eyes in the large mirror on the wall, and you smile to each other.

"Well, we all know the answer to this question, don't we, Thalia? Just look at that genetic material. Yum." You two crack up, and for a few moments you are sniggering. And then she sighs dreamily.

"The shoulders hips ratio..."

"Yeah," you nod, "And the hair..."

"Oh, don't tell me, wow… The hair is brill!"

"And all this work in the forge does pay off." She looks increasingly dazed, she has vivid imagination, your goddess ESP clearly indicates that even you might blush if you look into her fantasies at the moment, and you pat her hand gently. "Thank you for brushing, Thalia. And the talk. It'll be all. I'll work a wee bit." That's a shameless porky, you will probably fall asleep before the door closes behind her. She gives you an attentive look.

"Are you alright, my goddess?" That's a loaded question, isn't it? The answer is no, but if you start thinking about all the shite that is going on and that you have less than twenty four hours to figure it all out, you'll fall apart and blubbering won't stop till next moon. You give Thalia a sad smile, and she gets up to leave. In the doors she turns around and gives you a pensive look.

"It's easier for mortals, isn't it? The whole love and marriage thing. They feel less, have other things to do, and we are like these raw nerves, every emotion is multiplied and painful." She shifts between her feet, and you chuckle. Funny, how soulmates behave so similarly from the start. They don't know it yet, but her and Killilos are going to be brill together. "And they at least can sleep, to reboot their brain. And the babies..." You bite into your bottom lip and wait for her to go on. "They say it's magical, the mortal pregnancy, the baby growing inside, and it's raw and organic. Goddess have it easy, just pop, and you have a sprog, but mortals go through all those changes..." You wonder how much she has guessed. Your bed is covered in crumbs after all. "Gods fear that, but in reality it is worth giving up Olympus, isn't it?" She gives you a warm smile. "Good night, my goddess."

The door closes behind her, and you stretch on the bed. Your hands lock on your stomach, and you close your eyes. The game is on, but you are working against the clock.

**A/N: The cover for this story was graciously provided by RLFedun from DeviantArt. It wasn't bespoke, but when I saw it I just had to ask for permission to use it. She was so kind! Isn't Heph perfect on it? :D**


	31. Chapter 31

You wake up and stare at the ceiling. That's it, that's Day Eleven. Tonight is your bleeding engagement party. You turn your head and see your new tunic and veil hanging on the door of your wardrobe. Traditional colour for such occasions is red, but you are a ginger. So the tunic is white, and only the hem has a ribbon of the perfect shade of scarlet. The dress is a bit cheeky, one-shouldered, against current vogue, but you think the style will catch on. The cleavage line and the shoulder strap are embroidered, with myrtle and fennel flowerheads, yours and the smith's sacred plants, intertwined in a delicate pattern. At the back the strap turns into a voluptuous cape, long and luscious. The zone is scarlet too, embroidered with tiny hammers and hand mirrors. Altogether, the outfit is innocent and sensual at the same time, makes you look every bit like a blushing bride and a tigress in bed that you are. Bollocks, you are so not ready for this.

Thalia probably brought the clobber earlier this morning. You've noticed she is being smart about it. She doesn't let her sisters see you sleep and eat. They'd lose it, obviously, you are more mortal these days than the smith. And hotter. You shake off the covers and lift your hand above your head. Wicked. You can light up each of your fingers separately now, and your hand looks like a menorah.

You are soaking in your bath, when there is some argy-bargy in the parlour, and the door to your bathroom bursts open. Killilos falls in, completely blotto. Thalia is supporting him under his arm but he is too heavy for her. He is teetering, and she is trying to keep him upright.

"My goddess, I'm sorry..."

"Piss!" Killilos yells out, and she cringes. "No, wait! Pith!" He is legless, and the words obviously don't come out right. He makes a long grunting nose and flails his arms in the air. "The Orcs!" He is really trying, poor ducky, but it's not working. Thalia leans him onto a wall like a ladder and grabs a bucket of cold water from the floor. She looks at you questioningly, and you nod.

He squeals when the icy water hits his face and starts snorting and spitting water. Then he shakes his head like a stroppy pony and straightens up. He is swaying but at least he is vertical.

"Pythia..." He breathes out and beams triumphantly. Thalia looks at you in confusion.

"The Oracle in Delphi?" You nod. That makes sense. The chick sits on those magic vapours and blabbers shite, but supposedly she is never wrong. If she predicted some rubbish to the smith, he wouldn't doubt it. Killilos starts keeling on one side, obviously trying to catch Thalia's eyes and topples over with a loud thud. She rushes to him, and he whines rubbing the head he bumped into a table.

"Boo boo..."

"Oh, you poor darling!" She grabs his ears and kisses his head. There is a moronic grin on his face, and you snap your fingers impatiently.

"Killilos, Killilos, concentrate!" He shifts his very wasted eyes at you. "What did Pythia say to your uncle?" He is trying to focus so hard that gets slightly cross-eyed.

"That you'll die… Both of you. No, wait, not die… Another word."

You think you know the answer. ""Fall? Did she say we both would fall were we together?" He winces and nods.

"He really loves you, you know… He is like arsed up now… I think he is trying to kill himself with booze… He even let me have a bit…" You doubt his understanding of what "a bit" bloody is. "He said life is a bitch, might as well..." Thalia is gently stroking his hair, and he is momentarily distracted. He turns to her and puckers his lips. She chuckles and cups his face.

"Concentrate, Killilos, tell lady Aphrodite what she needs to know." He is staring at her lips. You are with him, she has a very sexy mouth. Her tone gets more hard arse. "Killi."

"I like that… Killi..." He is grinning. She turns his head and makes him look at you. He sighs and squints his eyes.

"He said that he'd rather die on Earth than drag you into his crap… Pardon my Gaulish. And I had to send the dove away… He went a bit coocoo when he saw it… Did you know he can actually throw an anvil through a window?" His face is beaming with admiration for a mo. Yeah, dove is your scared bird. You should have thought that the smith might react badly to it. Oopsy daisy. "And then he got the invitation for tonight… That's when we opened the second barrel." He hiccups and with a groan hides his face in her neck. "I am not feeling OK..."

"Can I take him away now, my goddess? I think he needs to lie down." He makes a happy humming noise into her neck. You chuckle.

"Do you want me to apparate you two in your room?" She looks at you suspiciously, to make sure you are not taking a piss out of her, and you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively. "But you do need to take care of him, after all. He deserves a small reward." She looks at him and nods, and you send them away with a wave of your hand.

You climb out of the bathtub, water drying on your skin with a hiss. You are like those lava stones they make steak on. You stroke your stomach and murmur, "You are making mamma very uncomfortable here, little one. And someone might notice. We need to keep our secret till tonight. Can you scale it down a bit?" Suddenly you feel much cooler. What a smart boy! "Thank you."

You grab a quick snack and get dressed. You need to see the Oracle. For that you need Apollo. Ew, you are not looking forward to it. He is fit as fuck but also posh and pompous. Mama's boy as well. And seriously, whatever they say about his beauty being the natural gift from gods, there is eyeliner. The hair is ace though, all this blonde goodness.

You apparate into his temple. He is practising archery in the yard, while his Muses are rehearsing yet another hymn. His lyre is floating in the air in front of the barmy chorus, conducting their dopey singing. Seriously, they are like those Russian dolls, so full of themselves! All white togas and dozy faces.

"Good afternoon, Averter of Evil." He turns around and narrows his icy blue eyes. You don't like each other. You think he is a self-centered wanker, he thinks you are a slag. But most likely both of you are wrong. And today you need you two to finally understand each other. "I came to set our differences aside and ask for your help." He cocks one brow up. You'll give him that. It might be almost as wicked as the smith's. Almost.

"You are polite today, love goddess. Do not think I won't throw you out, the High-crowned One. It would be my pleasure."

"I come with sincere heart, Apollo."

"Not just a tart, but a liar as well." He is giving you a sarcastic look. "What lies are you spreading in my temple of light today?" You are getting angrier, and Thales is heating up as well. He's got his daddy's short temper. And he doesn't like when people talk to you this way. If Apollo doesn't back off, when Thales is done with him he might have to start painstakingly growing his hair out like Ares had to.

"I came to ask for help. A prophecy was given to the fire god, Hephaestus, and I suspect it was done in evil will. Perhaps some meddling took place." He lowers his bow. He is very fond of his protege, that mental Pythia.

"Why do you care about the prophecy? Why would Hephaestus be upset about it?"

"Who knows? He's quite sensitive for a god. Do you not think?"

"More sensitive than some… But no less arrogant. I think gods tend to underestimate the power of my Oracle." Pissy, are we?

"I will be honest and open with you, the Radiant Healer. Hephaestus trusts your Oracle enough to have cancelled our wedding." His face wavers but then he looks bloody haughty again.

"It is not my fight."

"I came for help, Healer of Many. My beloved has been confused with the help of your Oracle, and I need to know the prophecy. I am certain he was deceived. I am so certain that the engagement party is still taking place." He tilts his head, and there is an almost unnoticeable smile dancing in his eyes. OK, he is gorgeous. Might as well admit it now.

"You knew I would help."

"I hoped, Golden God." He takes a few even breaths, his face unreadable, and then he slightly bows and stretches his hand to you. You put your fingers on his palm, and the world swirls around you.

You open your eyes and see a dark room at the back of Apollo's temple in Delphi. The whole ambience is eerie and pretentious. Yep, you are definitely in the right spot. Pythia is sitting on a tall chair over a crack in the floor, her eyes semi-closed, a rather barmy facial expression on her cute clock. Damn them artistic type! Always some substance abuse involved!

"Child, speak!" Apollo waves his hand, and the chick opens her eyes. They are empty, unseeing, and you feel seriously creeped out. You wrap your arms around your middle, subconsciously shielding Thales.

"I greet you, the Sun and the Light!" Her voice is hollow too. Brrr, you've got goosebumps and chills from her dead stare. You just want to be done with it quickly. "And you, the Warm and Affectionate," she turns her face to you, "The ever loyal lover, the empress of passion, the inamorata of the smith, the carrier of fire inside." Gee, that's totally TMI. You gulp. "Ask your question."

You look at Apollo, and he nods encouragingly. Alrighty, you'll ask, you are not freaked out at all.

"The god of smithery was given a prophecy. I want to know the details. Who evoked it and what was in it precisely." She is silent, and you cough cautiously.

"Speak, child, I give my permission," Apollo's voice is forceful, and she slowly nods. You guess there is some sort of oracle-client confidentiality here. Good thing you brought him with you. Pythia turns to you again and drones in her creepy, even voice.

"The lonely mother brought her unwanted child. He was silent. She made me speak." She slightly winces, and you see Apollo clench his fist. You guess, Hera is in deep shite. Because as vague as Pythia is, and yeah, the barmy New Age loons, they never speak directly, she is obviously talking about Hera and the smith. And Apollo doesn't like when they mess with his pet. "The answer came. The answer was true." She finally blinks, for the first time since you two came, and you feel a wee bit better. Gee, her eyeballs must be as dry as the sand in Sahara. "The answer was the following. The loving one and the fire one will fall when their hands are united, their hearts will stop and their blood will run, and the child of their union will make his mother burn and scream in pain." She blinks again and for a second her eyes seem to actually see you. "Are you afraid, the one carrying a small flame under the heart?"

Apollo turns sharply and looks at you. And then his eyes fall on your stomach. OK, you might be a bit freaked out. But then you smile confidently and lift your chin.

"Not even a bit, oh the one who breathes some volcanic shite in and will have bad skin earlier than Mother Nature planned for her." Pythia blinks and even looks slightly alive. Feel the burn, bint. You turn to Apollo and stroke his shoulder with your hand.

"Thank you, Apollo. I found out everything I needed. See you at the party." He slightly frowns. Is he keeping his face so blank to avoid early wrinkles?

"Do you need help, love goddess?" OK, maybe he is not that much of a wanker as you thought.

"Hunky-dory, Apollo. I got it under control." You get up on tiptoes and peck his cheek. His brow twitches, and the last thing you see before you apparate is his slightly surprised, perfect face. Seriously, so yummy. Damn your hormones.

You stretch on your bed and organize your thoughts. It all makes perfect sense now, and you know what to do. All the pieces are on the board, and the game is on. There is only one thing to do. You need leverage against Zeus.

And that means there is only one person to go to. You apparate to the door to Thalia's room, you need her to cover for you if someone comes looking, but the noises you hear from her room leave very little doubt to what is going on in there. Wow, the boy is a beast. Her screams reach a bloody unprecedented level of shriekiness. And then she gives him a few explicit commands, and you shake your head. He met his match, you suppose. "Oh Killi, fuck!.. More!.." You'd stay and listen for more, but you have an insidious scheme to orchestrate, a couple gods to stick it up to, your baby's daddy's arse to kick and then preferably kiss better, and an engagement party to attend. Gee, you are busy these days!

You apparate to Crete and walk through an elegant gate into the yard of a white villa, figs and grapes abundantly growing around it. The person you are looking for is swinging in a hammock, reading some very thick book. She lifts her mesmerizing hazel eyes and smiles, "Hello, Aphrodite."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: And this chapter is for ****Lady Stardust on Mars****. **

**My darling, as promised, here is your prize for the hundredth review for this story! Thank you, love! Your character even got some direct quotes from your PMs :)**

**A/N#2: My dear readers, LOVE YOU ALL! (That was a sudden outburst of love towards you, bear with me:) Writing is so much fun, and I am so happy that I can share the joy with you! **

"I greet you, Mother of the Gods," you courtsey, and Rhea gracefully jumps out of her hammock. If there were a goddess of badarsery, that would be Rhea. She rarely comes to Olympus, prefers her villa on Crete, but you two are mates. She is your trump card in this game, and you are bloody determined to play it best. You inhale and take off the vial Temmy gave you. Rhea's usual calm disposition wavers, and she is staring at your stomach.

"Most unusual," she murmurs and steps closer. "So much fire, so much strength, but he is..."

"Half-mortal."

"Amazing..." She stretches her hand, but then freezes. "Can I?"

"Of course." She places her palm on your stomach, and her eyes light up. You can trust Rhea with a baby, she sacrificed everything for her children. If anyone can understand what it's like to be a goddess and a mother and what kind of shitstorm you need to face with that, that would be her. Again, not the easiest of job, to be the mum of Hestia, Hades, Demeter, Poseidon, Hera, and Zeus, and the wife of Cronus who somehow decided to bloody munch on his own children so that they wouldn't overthrow him. Way to build parent-child relationships! Had he thought of playing catch with them or something?

"A half mortal child of two gods?"

"Well, Hephaestus doesn't have his immortality right now, and this happened..." You gesture around your stomach, and she giggles. It is a funny sound coming from her. Most of the time she is that low-key, cool chick, but right now she is almost bobbing on her feet and clapping her hands like a kawaii schoolgirl.

"I don't blame you, Aphrodite, he is a dreamboat!" Wait, what? You mean, he is, but you were certain she wears very comfortable sandals, so to say. Judging by her cheeky grin, she is highly entertained by your confusion. She pats your shoulder, "Don't fuss, darling. I just look, I might be emotionally confused, but I know my tastes. But between us, girls, that's a fine piece of arse you got yourself." You laugh and nod. Let's face it, for you it all started with the chest, but the buttocks of the god of smithery are to die for. Yum. Gee, you are so bloody randy! You are going to combust if you don't get any soon.

Rhea wraps her arm around your waist, she is just as short as you are, and leads you into a nice shady gazebo. There is fruit and sweets on the table, and you stretch your legs. That's a bleeding bliss. Rhea is giving you an attentive look over.

"Different with demigods, huh? I don't remember any of that discomfort." You are chewing on a slice of a cantaloupe.

"I don't think he actually qualifies as a demigod. None of us was mortal per se when he was conceived. But on the other hand we both were not fully immortal either. Hera threw Heph from the Olympus as you know," Rhea presses her lips in a stern line, they have a wee bit of mother daughter slash daughter in law arsed up dynamics going on. Gee, the Mountain is one sick madhouse. "And for me it was the first time, so I was…"

"Vulnerable," she is giving you a curious look. "Did you know what a big deal it is for a goddess when you let him pop your cherry?" You nod. You didn't expect to end up in preggars, but you already knew then there is no one else for you but him. You are still certain, although you do feel like ending him in with a cricket bat at the moment. Rhea gives you a warm smile. "The first time it is so raw, so authentic. You opened up to him, trusted him, shared yourself with him in all ways possible. Risky choice, Aphrodite. A man with such short temper, stubborn, aggressive… Can you feel his fire under your heart now?"

You stroke your stomach and smile. "I can. And it is wonderful, Mother of Gods. Nothing is more important for me now than my son. That is why I came for help. I have no one else to turn to."

Rhea picks up a goblet of wine and swirls it in her delicate fingers. It's funny how on Olympus everyone looks so young. A mortal would give her twenty four, maybe twenty five. Seriously, on the Mountain a new god always has to be careful, there is a big chance when on the pull one might try to knob one's own granny. Rhea is gorgeous, auburn curly hair in a flirty, elegant do, perfect nose, wonderful line of lips, and the most glorious eyes. Technically, if looking at the whole story carefully you are her great-aunt, but since you were born of a cut off pecker and she might be Mater Magna of all reality, one should probably just agree that she is Zeus's mum and do as she says. He does. And that is why you are here.

"What help do you need, Aphrodite?" You shortly tell her about the wager and the whole making you marry a random bloke business. By the end of it she is livid.

"What the fuck?" Have you mentioned that under the composed facade of this fierce little lion there is a mental vulcano of temper? Yep, you really don't envy the Almighty at the moment. "I didn't go through all the trouble to bring him into this world just so he could be as big a tool as his father! I specifically choose to live here so I don't have to see all his whoring around, and the way he treats his wife, but that is just fucked up!" She has jumped on her feet and is pacing in the gazebo. "OK, good thing you and the smith ended up fancying each other, but forcing a girl into this… That's bloody disgusting! Gods, I'm going to whoop his arse!"

"Mother of Gods, that is not all. The smith refuses to marry me now." Rhea freezes mid step and slowly turns to you.

"What?! He fucking banged you up and now he is backing off?!" She is so mad that there are waves of force coming off from her. The ground underneath your feet starts shaking, and you quickly put your hand on her arm.

"He doesn't know about the baby. And he is not doing it by choice. But I figured it all out, I have a plan." She takes a slow breath in, and the black storm clouds that were gathering on the horizon slow down. "But I need your help, Blessed Mother. Everything is prepared, but I need to make sure Zeus doesn't arse it all up."

She sits back on her chair, and her eyes are sparkling. "You are an interesting one, Aphrodite. You seem so shallow, so selfish..."

"Heph once said I am a bit of a bitch," you smile from the memories.

"You are, but look at you now. Already a mother, fighting for your son and for the man you love. And considering your determination, you might even win." She shakes her head in disbelief. "You are playing a dangerous game, Aphrodite."

"But I have a very smart plan, Blessed Mother. I just need a bit of back up." She takes a sip from her goblet and smiles to you.

"Tell me what you need."

Two hours later you apparate back home, in front of Thalia's door. There is rhythmical banging of a headboard into a wall, and you knock. The thumping stops, and you hear Killilos wail, "Oh don't stop now! I was so fucking close!" Thalia shushes him, and after some rustling you hear her slightly choked voice.

"Yes, my lady?" Well, your name is not bloody Aphrodite is that was anything but the So-fa So Good that you just interrupted. You are very sorry, the positions is ace, she was probably shagging his brain out, but it's time to get ready for the party.

"I'm taking a bath now, so you two have another hour to finish what you are doing now, and then, Thalia, I need your help to get dressed. And, Killilos?" There are some more dull thuds and shuffling inside.

"Yes, my lady?" That was a very embarassed squeak. What a numpty.

"You are coming too. Thalia, make sure he is decent. But not too much of a cupcake. We wouldn't want him to get groped. All the goddesses are going to be there."

You go upstairs and sink in the hot water. You have two hours left. Every little detail is thought through, but let's face it life has a tendency to throw poop at you when you least expect it. You are poking suds in your tub with a finger, and for the first time you let yourself think of the smith. You are taking a great risk with this plan of yours. Even if it all works out, you will place him before a big choice there, and he already has given up on you once. Given he had a noble though daft reason for it, but still... You are still pissed off about it. If it all works out, he will have to really grovel. For couple weeks, very, very thoroughly, mostly on his back and on his knees, you do like it on top and the Dolphin is still your favourite. Gods, you miss the tosser. You even miss him outside your bed, which is a mind-blowing surprise. You don't even mind watching him eat. He makes funny hamster cheeks when he eats cheese. Fuck it, you are a brainless bint in love! You scornfully puff air out and sink into the fragrant water all the way down.

Two hours later you enter the Great Golden Hall in Zeus's Palace. The wanker insisted the party to take place there, no doubt so that all the gods can fit and witness your humiliation. The room is so bloody tall you can't see the ceiling, it's covered in fluffy white clouds, golden sunlight piercing them, sodding crystal walls and marble floors, everything in the hall is glittering and sparkling. Goblets on the tables, around fountains of Ambrosia, fruit arranged on golden platters, all gods dressed up in fancy togas and tunics, light chatter and melodious lyres playing at the background. Two demigods open the gates in front of you, and you step in, Thalia and Killilos behind, followed by the other two Charites. You are wearing your new tunic, and a delicate veil covers you from head to toe, the wreath crowning you over it.

Zeus is standing by the wall, amicably chatting with Temmy, and seeing you he raises his glass. Smug fuck. Damn, his voice carries, "Here comes the bride! Let's all hear for the happy mistress of the event!"

All gods cheer, and you hear Thalia gasp softly behind. You look at her askew, you can see Killilos grabbing her hand for support. Poor chick is suffering from second hand anxiety. You'd probably die of humiliation yourself now, but you know something they don't. You square your shoulders and approach the Almighty. The bloody veil is in the way, but you snake your hand out and take a goblet he offers you. He picks your arm under your elbow and leads you to the central stage. The fauns blow deafening fanfares, and the tosser clears his throat loudly. All eyes are on him.

"My beloved gods and other guests, I am exuberant to be joined by you today for this glorious, joyous event. Our darling Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, our Laughter Loving, the Lover of the Whole People, the High-Crowned, the Heavenly, the Golden, the Dove of Olympus," is he trying to bore everyone to bloody death with all your epithets? "Averter of Unlawful Desires, the Bountiful," yada-yada-yada, "Has chosen her betrothed and today we are here to celebrate the union of two hearts and the day when two hands will join in a sacred matrimony." Can he sound more sarcastic, bloody Hades? Everyone looks at you as if they have rehearsed it, and you inhale full lungs. Show time!

You open your mouth, and suddenly the doors burst open, the demigods by them jump aside, and the smith enters. Bugger, bugger, bugger. Fucking fuck. That totally wasn't part of the plan.

**A/N: Here comes a BOOOOM… :) **


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: And BOOOOOM! :P**

**This chapter is penultimate. And then an epilogue, and happily ever after! :)**

**And I'll be honest with you I have them all written already! Muawahahaha, but I'm too evil (and I'm still checking them for typos.) But since you all asked for a quick update… I especially loved the message from Dopamine07 :D**

All the hall turns and freezes staring at him. Since the Mountain is one big snake pit, everyone knows everything. Judging by facial expressions half of the guests pity the smith, you are obviously going to announce that you are marrying someone else. Another half pities you, since he dumped you. And both halves are hoping for a loud, ugly right to-do, preferably escalating into a punch-up, with yelling obscenities and disclosing embarrassing details regarding your sex life.

They are also looking forward for you to declare who the lucky fucker is. Mostly to see the smith lose it and an affray to start. The funny thing is that Ares knows it's not him and thinks it's probably Hades, so he is betting in his head that the smith will smear Hades's ponce face all over a crystal wall. Zeus thinks it's Ares, and is really looking forward to Ares roughing Heph up. As if… Apollo really hopes it's not him, and although he is on his usual bloody high horse here, he is hoping for some battering as well. Poseidon is quietly slurping his drink. Bacchus is exchanging looks with Thea, she is in jitters. Eros is so uncomfortable that his usual nose twitching is so intense now that it makes him look like a rabbit, possibly a rabbit with hay fever.

You see Hera standing on the stage a few steps away from Zeus. Speaking of bloody body language! You seriously can make ice cubes in the space between them. She has one of her barmy peacocks at her feet. Seriously, bringing a bird to a do? What is bloody wrong with her? Demeter is frantically whispering something to her ear, but Hera is blatantly ignoring her. While everyone is looking at the smith, her eyes are still somewhere on the wall above your shoulder. Heph's has gotten so much of her look, the same dark luscious hair, noble profile, strong curve of lips, and the same icy blue eyes. Hers are bleeding cold, distant. She is tall too, radiating power and strength. She might be the only goddess, who is unable to conceal her age and divinity. Her power is vibrating in the air around her.

You should hate her, really, after all she's done to Heph and now to you too, but somehow you don't. Maybe you are getting soft because of Thales, maybe you are just growing as a person. Nuh, doubtful, you are still so going to enjoy sticking it up to her! But if you think of it, somehow you just can't bring yourself to hate her full scale. Maybe because you feel so sorry for her. You get it, partially. She wanted to prove to Zeus that she didn't need him, but she is so messed up that she didn't manage to see how ace her son turned out and then she made it only worse. The saddest thing is that if she actually tried, Heph would have forgiven her. You saw his eyes when he was talking about her.

The smith is standing in the doors, his chin lifted proudly, shoulders tense, and anger and discomfort are radiating from him in waves. He knows everyone is staring at him, the stares must be burning him, and his jaws are clenched. He is pale, and there are purple shadows under his eyes. And that makes it even worse for him. Everyone can see that he is half-mortal, a god would never be caught dead looking buggered up like that, everyone here looks like a picture in those daft fashion parchments they sell on the markets these days. He is still wearing barbarian trousers and a dark blue tunic. They are new though, his hair is clean and looks very silky. There are rings and an earcuff. He did make an effort, probably among other things to preserve leftovers of his dignity. He knows that everyone is gossiping behind his back. He does love you, this pillock! How excruciating it must be for him to drag his glorious arse here! Damn, the arse, and the rest of him to be honest, looks scrummy. You feel heat pooling in your stomach. Thales is happy as Larry. The vial is still around your neck, it's not time yet. And altogether the smith is going to arse up you plan. Bugger. Think fast, Aphrodite!

You turn to Zeus and give him a pleasant smile. "I'm going to need a mo, oh my Ruler. I still haven't thanked the smith for the wreath." Zeus looks slightly dischuffed. He would really prefer you to not have this ding dong somewhere in privacy, the whole point of this party was drama, and you are trying to take some away.

You jump off the stage and quickly walk up to the smith. Your heart is beating painfully, and fuck it, you are shaking. Sod it, you need to keep it together. And you need him to shut his gob. Although he is not saying anything. His burning eyes are glued to you, his lips, oh yum, the lips, are in a stern line, mournful tense wrinkles in the corners. He can't see your face properly behind the veil. You really have no time for pleasantries, you grab his sleeve and drag him out of the hall into a passage. He is limping heavily, and he stumbles when you start walking faster. Everyone is staring, and you see Thalia shift. Killilos wraps an arm around her, his eyes on his uncle, worried. You pull the smith out of the hall and glare at the demigods, and they close the doors behind you.

The smith swallows, his throat bobs, but he can't tear his eyes off you. You cowardly consider keeping on hiding behind the veil, but then you snort and angrily bunch it up and push it back off your face.

"What are you doing here, smith?" His eyes are roaming your face, and there is so much pain and humiliation in them that you are going to bawl. You clench your fists behind your back so he doesn't see it. He exhales shakily.

"I got the invitation," he is raspy, and his voice is hollow, "I… I came to see you… for the last time..." Oh, you love him so much right now, it's embarrassing. Keep it together, Aphrodite. Remember the bloody plan. But seriously, is the bloke a masochist? Judging by the gutted face he is certain you are marrying someone else. Makes sense, what else could he assume?

"Do you love me, smith?" Your tone is stern, and a shudder runs through his body.

He drops his head and whispers, "No." Liar, liar, pants on fire! For this little lie, and it still sodding hurts though you know he is lying through his teeth, and for giving up on you, he is going to get another curve ball.

"Well, that's very unfortunate, since I am carrying your child." He jerks his eyes up at you, and his face twists in a pained grimace.

Oh, sod it, you really can't torture him like this. Fuck giving up on you, he is so cut up, that you can't do it to him anymore. You throw yourself on him, and he sobs into your neck. He pulls you to him so tight, that you can't breathe, and your feet are off the ground. He is mumbling something in your hair, and you realise he is begging forgiveness. You don't give a shite. But then you realizes he is a wee bit out of tune.

"I am so sorry... For the baby… I ruined us both… " Hey, he is supposed to apologise for giving up on you, and not shagging you into sheets and banging you up! That part was ace! You push away from him and grab his ears.

"It's going to be fine. Listen to me, Heph, you need to listen to me." He lifts his face, and you see tears in his eyes. Oh poor, poor confused sod. "I know of the prophecy, and I know how to fix it." He blinks and stares at you. "But you have to decide right now. Are you with me? Do you trust me, Heph?" You hold his stare and suddenly his face wavers again.

"Wait, a baby?.." Duh! Have you chosen yourself a thick bloke? Apparently. And scattered brained as well. Can he bloody concentrate? You really have no time for soppy baby talk right now.

"Yes, a baby. You have a son, his name is Thales, and we really have no time for this. Are you with me, Heph? I need you to decide now." He freezes for a second and then, yay, he pulls himself together, straightens up and looks directly into your eyes.

"Yes."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what, poulaki." His tone is firm, and you throw your arms around his neck and snog him like you've dreamt about this whole time. Gods, that is so wicked! Your head starts spinning, and you melt into him. Gee, he is so hot, so familiar and smells so good. His hands roam your back, and he moans into your mouth.

And then he pushes you away and looks in your eyes again. "But Pythia said..."

Yeah, he is right, back to business. That was bloody distracting! You exhale sharply, reigning your hormones, bugger, you so want to jump him right now, and nod.

"I know what she said. I'm on it."

"The baby is supposed..." He is staring at your stomach. Guh, men are such namby-pambies! So much in need of constant consoling and reassuring. You have a power struggle to win and a couple of Olympians to stick it up to, and you have to deal with his sodding mawkishness!

"The baby is fine. I'm fine. He is healthy, and I'll show him to you later. But right now I need you to shut your gob, go back to the hall with me and look devastated. Can you do this for me?" He studies you for a mo, then chuckles and shakes his head in disbelief.

"You are a wicked woman, poulaki, aren't you?"

"You bet." You two are smiling to each other, and you take a deep breath in. "Ready?"

"I am your man, poulaki." You come up to the door and peek at him. He looks absolutely gutted. If you didn't know you'd assume the love of his life just told him to sod off. And then he winks at you, his face momentarily mischievous. You roll your eyes, pull the veil over your face and push the doors again.

Everyone inside is pretending they were not trying to hear your conversation just a minute ago. The smith steps into the room after you and tucks himself in the darkest corner, looking all dischuffed and bent out of shape. You stride through the hall and climb on the stage again. And here is attempt numero duo. Show time!

You take the goblet from Zeus's hand and lift it. "Honourable guests, I thank you for coming!" Wow, you sound way more confident than you feel. "I value that you took time from your busy schedules and came here today to share my happiness." The crowd shifts, and everyone's eyes are on you now. Three , two, one… You screw your eyes at Hera, her face is bloody blank as usual, but you seem to detect some smugness in her features. Hard to tell, she just looks constipated all the time. The bitch is gorgeous though, you out of all people should thank you for the genetic material. Cold-blooded, ungrateful cunt. "I have decided and today is the day when this god becomes the husband of the goddess of love."

The door in the side of the room opens, and Filippo steps out. He is clad in golden armour, there are two swords clasped in a scabbard on his back, and in his hand he is holding a giant battle hammer. His golden mane is glowing, two thick braids on the side of his face, a bright scarlet cape going down his shoulders and dragging on the floor behind him. He makes a few steps ahead and stands near you. You give him a soft smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present you Anicetus, the Invincible, the Unconquerable One, son of Hercules and Hebe."

You see people murmuring, Killilos looks aghast, he tries to make a step ahead but you see Thalia catch his arm and shake her head. Hades looks smug, he knows a wee bit more than the rest, Zeus looks gobsmacked, Hera is gloating. You quickly find the smith in the crowd with your eyes. He is looking down, and you can't see the expression on his face. And now as they say, to something completely different!


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: The last chapter, my lovelies! And don't forget, there will be an epilogue! **

**And considering your latest reviews, don't miss the teaser for the sequel that will be posted right after the epilogue! :P Honestly, the thought came to me after the feedback for the last chapter! Do you love me? :)**

You open your mouth to declare the next shocking piece of information, when the smith lifts his face, and your eyes meet. Clear as day you can see the struggle he is going through at the moment. Rage, betrayal, and pain battle in his eyes with the desire to trust you, to believe you and into you, and your heart clenches for him. Poor ducky, how hard it is for him right now! He cannot see your face that well, and then a thought comes. You lock your hands on your stomach, intertwine the fingers, and you see his eyes fall on them. And then you see him exhale, and his eyes soften. A small smile brushes his lips, and he gives a hardly noticeable nod. Phew, good, it's time for stage two!

You stretch your hand towards the Charites standing near the stage. "Aglaea, darling, would you be so kind as to come up here?" The guests start murmuring, but you have to give the chick the credit. She straightens up and goes up the stairs, her head set proud and dignified, all cool and regal. Well done, you take all the times you called her a bint back. You take her hand and put it into Filippo's. They smile to each other. The vibe between them makes you tingle head to toe. Damn, you told them to keep their hands off each other at least for now. You are hoping they haven't shagged at least. They will need this bargaining chip for later.

"What is going on, Aphrodite?" Zeus voice is menacing. Boohoo, someone is worried. Well, someone isn't that scary anymore, are they? You grab the hem of your veil and lift it off your face.

"May I present you the new gods of love and smithery, my ruler." The crowd gasps, and you see Zeus's eyes widen.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask your wife." Everyone looks at Hera, and it seems to finally shake her out of her dozy stupour.

"What does it have to do with me?" Did you mention she has an annoying nasal voice? Ha!

"This particular shift in power, nothing. But you could tell everyone present about the prophecy you squeezed out of poor Pythia. The chick is still slightly off her onion by the way. Not that she was completely right in her noggin before." At the corner of your eye you notice Apollo shift in the crowd. Damn, you probably won't see the donnybrook between him and the bitch, but you'd love to. Hera's nostrils flare, and she focuses her cold blue eyes on you. They are burning with so much hatred, oh, if only the looks could kill… Alas, they don't. At least her death stare won't work on you, you are still a goddess, and you are carrying her flesh and blood under your heart. You are fighting an urge to stick your tongue at her.

"Pythia's prophecies are always true. By choosing him," she points at Heph with her index finger accusingly, and everyone immediately looks at him. He makes a step out of the shadowy corner and squares his shoulders. His eyes are on you, warm and trustful, and it feels bloody ace to know he's got your back. "You will bring death and ruin for both of you."

Oh, you so love it when they give you just the right line for an awesome comeback. "Wrong, bitch." Her perfect eyebrows jump up. "The precise wording was that by being with him I will make us both fall. And we all know it isn't that bad, do we, Hades?"

The god of death steps ahead, a snake-like smile on his lips. At some point through this commotion Persephone moved from her mother, who was too absorbed into the argy-bargy, and now she standing near her betrothed, yuck, you are still not over the Mrs. Hades notebook, and she is beaming like a new drachma coin. Well, at least they have common interests, like dead stuff and colour black. Creepy gits. Hooking them up though made them your best mates, and that brings us to the next stage. Hades pulls out two vials out of his barmy robe and dangles them in the air.

"What the fuck is this?" Oh, would you look at that? Zeus is losing his bottle. Manners, mate, manners! There are ladies present here.

"It is the poison you infused my roses with, Zeus Almighty, remember, you almost killed me?" The crowd gasps and starts whispering to each other. YOu ctach Heph's eyes for a second, he is tense, and you give him a comforting smile. "Had to send couple mates to get me some more," you wink to Filippo, and he nods slightly. And then exchanges amicable looks with Cerberus standing at the back. They bonded over their weapon obsession, Cerberus will be a great companion to him. "And I think it is time for the poison to finish the job." You pick up the vials and look at the smith. Your eyes are probably shining, and he is looking at you like you are the coolest chick in the world. Well, right now you might just be. "Fancy a drink, love?" He grins widely and strides towards you. He jumps on the stage, grabs the back of your head and quickly snogs you. There is tongue. You don't mind. And then he picks up the second vial from your hand.

"Wait, are you mad? Are you bloody committing a double suicide?" Thea's voice is shrieky, and she lunges towards you. Bacchus wraps his arms around her middle, restraining her. "Why isn't anybody stopping them?"

"It's not a suicide, Thea, we will just be mortal. The poison will put our divine part to eternal sleep, Hades will preserve the immortalities in the underworld, and all that will be left is a mortal body with a mortal soul." You smile to her sadly. "I am sorry to leave you in this madhouse alone, but you have Bach now. You'll be fine. Goddess of love guarantee!"

"You can't do this!" Zeus is shaking. "You have no power to decide such things for yourself! And appointing some slag on such an important position!" You can see Filippo taking a menacing step ahead, and Heph puts a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes meet, and Filippo halts.

"She does," Rhea's calm voice carries through the hall, and Zeus pulls his head into his shoulders. Oops, someone is in trouble! He slowly turns and meekishly looks at his mum. Her fists are pressed into her glorious curvaceous hips, and she is arse scary. "A goddess has a right to choose her destiny. As well as choosing her successor. That was the point of freeing the world of Titans. To give everyone free will. That was what we fought for, that was why we overthrew the tyranny of Cronus. She chooses mortal life with her beloved, and she has every right for it. Any objections?"

Zeus makes a sad mewling noise, but otherwise he is silent. Rhea one, Zeus zero.

"And Aglaea is a perfect Aphrodite. She has been at the service for centuries, she knows the paperwork, and she is even marrying the new Hephaestus." You smile to the kids and get a pair of beaming grins back. Such cuties.

"Are you not forgetting anything, goddess?" Hera's disdainful voice makes you turn and narrow your eyes. Seriously, you are that close to forgetting that you sort of feel sorry for her and kicking her divine arse! "The second half of the prophecy promises you pain and suffering if you bear my son's child. What are planning to do with that?" Her eyes are drilling into yours, and honestly, you have never felt that smug in your life! Damn, it might be better than an orgasm. Well, not really, nothing compares to a big O from the smith, but damn it's close second. Oooph, you are not a very good person after all. You really shouldn't be enjoying this petty little revenge so much. Alas, no one is perfect!

You unclip the chain on which Temmy's vial hangs and pull it off your neck. The crowd bursts in low agitated murmurs, Zeus shrinks away from you, and Thea swears loudly.

"You really should learn to listen to people, Hera. The Oracle said that this child will make me burn and scream in pain. To be honest, the whole idea of mortal delivery freaks me out, and while I'm really not looking forward to the pain, blood, and the aforementioned screaming part, I still have a chance to enjoy the immortal burning part so far." You raise your fisted hand and a flame bursts around it. You cock a brow and fell very, very pleased with yourself. Who da man? Aphrodite is. No, still not saying it ever again.

"I am positive you've never seemed hotter for me than now!" Heph's voice makes you turn and wink to him. He guffaws. He is so shagging you into a wall when this is done. Yes, please! Aphrodite is randy, and she needs her hammering!

Hera is boiling, Zeus is obviously looking for some loopholes, there are none, ha, Hades is making eyes to Persephone, yuck, her mum is starting to suspect something, and then Killilos steps forwards.

"We would like the vials too." He is holding Thalia's hand, and she is smiling softly to him.

"Are you sure?" You look into her eyes, and she nods.

Killilos summarizes quite eloquently, "Fuck the immortal life! Divinity is overrated." You blow them an air kiss and hear Heph chuckle behind you.

Hades hands them vials as well, and Killilos immediately raises it to his lips. You catch it and whisper into his ear, "Wait. I suggest one last godly shag, and then this." His gorgeous dark eyes meet yours, and he smirks. You like the bloke, you'll be the best of mates.

The smith's hand lies on your shoulder, and you turn to him. He is smiling to you, and then he picks up the wreath. You don't really need to discuss it, it's all clear. He carefully places it on Aglaea's head, and she gasps in shock. He smiles to her and then gives Filippo a fake stern look.

"If I find out you arsed up my forge, I'll physically climb the mountain and will kick your arse." Filippo grins, and they embrace. That does it for Zeus.

"What the fuck is going on?" He is yelling shriekingly and is stomping his godly feeties. "Am I not making any decisions here any more?" Rhea makes an exasperated noise and rolls her eyes.

"What's your problem, Ze? You've got yourself a smith and a goddess of love, these trouble makers are leaving, and you are still sort of the ruler of gods."

"I am the ruler of gods!" He sounds like a stroppy toddler, and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from cracking up. Heph coughs, which sounds suspiciously like a snort. Cheeky bastard.

"Of course, you are, dearie." Rhea pats his hand and turns to you. "Well done, Aphrodite. Perfectly executed. All the luck in the world for you, my darling!" You bow to her and smile. As a mother to a mother.

"So you think you won, little goddess? And what have you gotten as a prize, a mortal life, crawling on your knees in pain and dirt?" Hera's tone is cold, and somehow you lose it. You see red and turn around to her.

"I think I won the moment I saw what you managed to have missed through all these years. How precious your son is. And now you are paying for it, with your manky loveless marriage and sad, empty, lonely life, you heartless cunt." She makes an enraged throaty sound and lifts her hand to slap you. Heph rushes to her, but he is not fast enough. A wall of fire hits her in a face, and just as you predicted Thales performs his daddy's favourite move. Hera's luxurious locks catch fire, and she howls. It probably doesn't hurt, but yeah, she'll need a wig. She apparates away, and her peacock left behind sadly squawks.

You throw the last look at Thea and see tears in her eyes. You bite in your bottom lip to control your own and nod to her. And then to Bacchus and get a warm smile back. Temmy. Apollo. And then you meet Eros's grey eyes. You nod to him and them point at Ares with your eyes. His face is momentarily panicked but then he steps towards the god of war and places his hand on his shoulder. Ares stares at him in shock. You chuckle and turn to Heph.

"Shall we, darling?" You stretch your free hand to him, clasping the vial in the other one. "Fancy a trip to Earth?"

"With you? Anywhere." He theatrically pulls you closer and looks down into your eyes. Gods, you love this idiot! He licks his lips, and you are a puddle of adoration. "We still have a few walls to knock down in my house." Oh, what a numpty!

"Lead on!" He kisses you, and you two apparate into the house. Probably. You don't notice. You are snogging him as if your life depends on it. He takes the vial from your hand, blindly pushes both of them on some shelf and picks you up under your arms. He plops you on the kitchen table, and his intentions are quite obvious. As well as his giant cock bulging his trousers. Yes, yes, yes! Fucking finally! He is sucking on your neck, and you wrap your legs around him. And then he pushes away from you, his lips are swollen and bright pink, eyes shining, and he is mind-blowingly beautiful!

"I love you, poulaki."

"Back at you, mate." You smile to him, and he places his hand on your stomach. His face becomes reverent and slightly surprised, and you giggle.

"Well, hello, Thales," the smith coos and lowers his face to your niddle. Seriously, he is also a good father? Damn, can the bloke be any more perfect? Not that you are ever, ever telling him this. "How are you, my boy?"

"He is brill. Except that he just set his granny on fire." The smith chuckles. "Seriously, I'm really looking forward to when we all are mortal, and the only weird stuff in this pregnancy is the baby hiccuping and me craving pickled eggs or something." What? You read up on mortal pregnancy. Sounds super exciting.

He smirks and straightens up again. Oh you know this expression! It is Heph is going to shag your brain out expression! He steps closer, and you press into him again. He cocks an eyebrow, and your knickers are drenched.

"One last for the road, poulaki?"

Oh bloody yes, please.

THE END


	35. Chapter 35

EPILOGUE

"Oh Heph… Oh yes… Oh gods, yes..." He is pumping his hips into you, and it is the Anvil, obviously his favourite position. Greatly for the name, but also for the angle and depth. Blimey, you can't say you don't enjoy this one! Your ankles are on his shoulders, and he rolls his hips into you, your pelvis lifting up from the sheets. The eye contact doesn't hurt either! Fuck, you are going to combust! You can't do it physically anymore, but your O's with the smith certainly feel that way. "Oh, Heph, more! Oh fuck me!" He suddenly slows down, and his eyes are laughing.

"We are not fucking, poulaki, we are making another baby here..." Wait, what?

"We are?" He chuckles, and his cock jerks in you. Blimey, he is big!

"You were staring at me when I was eating, didn't let me finish my breakfast and dragged me upstairs to bed. You are obviously ovulating. So do you want me to go on, and do you want me to pull out?" Choices, choices… You give it a thought, while he is gently rocking his hips, and then you grin widely.

"Let's have another baby." He smiles, and you just love the little wrinkles, and the blue irises hiding behind the black lashes, and the lips… Oh sod it, you love all about him. Which you tell him every day. About couple hundred times a day. He didn't get enough affection in the past. He needs it. And really, it's not a pip for you.

He sets his palms firmly on the sheets and picks up speed. Bugger, bugger, bugger! Oh yes! You come with a scream, and he follows in a jiffy with a low growl. Gods, you love the sounds he makes! He topples on the side, and you hiss when he slides out of you. He pulls you to him and buries his nose in your hair.

"Do you think it worked?" He sounds very hopeful. What a berk! Loveable, wonderful berk!

"How do I know?" You yawn. "Ask me in two weeks." He kisses the top of your head and pulls the covers over you. You are immediately flagging, you always do after a shag, and he kisses your cheek.

"Sleep, poulaki, I'll take care of the bairns." You hum and nod off.

The same day you are sitting on the blanket and watch your youngest, Danaus trying to pull a leaf out of the ground.

"Love, it's a dandelion, they have thick roots, you can't pull it out." He gives you a stubborn pout that looks just like his father's, absolutely hilarious on a one year old, and continues his hard work. Well, who are you to stop him? Una comes to you and peeks in the basket with sorrel that you sorting and cleaning.

"Can I help?" She has her father's luscious dark waves, and she is very full of herself. You wonder where that came from. You kiss her temple and push the basket towards her. She settles near you, and for a while the two of you sort out the juicy green leaves in peace.

And then with a loud pop Athena, the Granter of Victories, the Protector of Cities, the Shipbuilder, the Owl-Eyed manifests in front of you.

"Aunt Thea!" Unna squeals excitedly and runs up to her. She wraps her arms around the goddess, and you see Dan wobble towards her, all chuffed and cooing. For a second Thea looks tense, they both have very dirty hands, and Thea lives for fancy clobber, but then she obviously decides it's worth it.

"Hello, my darlings!" She hugs them both. "Gods, Una, you are getting smarter and smarter each day! I can see it in your eyes!" She picks up Una's chin, and the girl squints her eyes in pleasure. You silently thank Thea with a nod. Thank gods for the goddess of wisdom as a friend, at least you won't get any of the "girls are pretty, boys are smart" shite from her. "And hello to you too, Dan!" She looks into the happy green eyes, and he hands her a dandelion leaf. He did pull it out. He is so Heph's son.

She hands them the gifts, seriously most spoilt children in Greece, and they run away to test the new model of a trireme in a pond not too far. She plops on the blanket and hugs you with one arm. You smile to her.

"Nice to see you are blooming and flourishing, Phro." You chuckle. "And preggers again, are we?" What?!

"I am not," you don't sound certain even for your own ears.

"Temmy said you are. A boy again." You pretend to be very busy with sorrel.

"Well, you know how it is, Thea. He just can't keep his hands away from all this glorious goodness..." She stretches on the blanket and picks up one of the sorrel leaves. You glance at the children, they are laughing at something they found in water. Judging by Una's squeals, it's a frog. "How's Olympus, Thea?"

She is chewing the sour leaf and makes a noncommittal sound. "Same old, same old… Ares had a row with Eros again, this time the shortie is definitely moving out." She draws the words mockingly. "No one believes this rubbish obviously. Phro Two knows her stuff." That's Thea's name for Aglaea. You snort.

"She is amazing. Keeping those two together, she really has more patience than I ever did in my time. Ares is such a wanker sometimes."

"Speaking of wankers, where is your better half?" You throw a handful of leaves at her, and she snortles. "In the forge?"

"No, today they are fixing the roof in Thalia's house. A branch fell on it last night. Because of the big storm..."

"Oh, this..." Thea sounds dischuffed. "That's Zeus again. Hera caught him knobbing that nymph they hired to redecorate their palace." Yuck, you are so happy you bloody don't live there anymore! "Hera threw a benny and broke his favourite amphoras. He just found the second one in a pair, and she clobbered them with a bat." You shake your head.

You hear someone calling you, and you turn to see Thales coming from around a low green hill. He looks so much like Heph that sometimes you doubt the smith didn't have him on his own like Zeus had Thea. But then you remember nine hours of the most excruciating pain and loud swearing including telling Heph that from now on he would just have to wank in a sock and you were not letting him anywhere near your fanny. Nope, Pythia was right, your child did come with pain, but damn if you would ever have it any other way.

Thales is eleven, his dark hair reach his shoulders, and he is every bit as arrogant, stubborn and temperamental as his father. He is wicked with hammer, and no less amazing in a fight. Thea teaches him, and you are relieved. The world is a dangerous place. Still better than bloody Olympus, that's for sure.

"Mitera, Aunt Thea," he gives you both a small bow. He is so bloody ceremonious. Sometimes just to make him squirm you grab him when he is all decorous and toff and start nuzzling and squishing him. He tolerates it as a man. Let's face it, we all know he loves it. Secretly he is just as cuddly as his dad. "Father sent me home for the second hammer. Uncle Killilos broke his. Again." There is no judgement in Thales's tone but one black brow is slightly lifted. You giggle. Killi does tend to get carried away. What? The bloke is passionate, about everything he does. And everyone he does. Which is exclusively Thalia.

"Also, mitera," Thales turns to you, "Aunt Thalia invited us for dinner, she made spanakorizo," Thales's eyes become pleading, "Can we go, please?" You get it, no one can say no to Thalia's cooking. The chick is a genius. And you have to give her additional points, she is so round these days so you really don't know how she moves in her kitchen. You nod to Thales, and he pumps his fist. And then immediately schools his face into a decorous expression again. Such a numpty!

"She still cooks?" Thea lifts her eyebrows, "Which one is it now? Number seven?"

"Eight." Thea groans. She was unfortunate enough to catch the end of your delivery with Una, she has been scarred for life. Well, for eternity really. So, she really can't understand how Thalia even considered having another sprog. And yet the chick delivers. Sorry for the pun. "What can I say, they really like the process."

"Everyone likes the process!" Thea throws a cautious look at Thales who is still standing nearby, absorbed in watching his siblings play. "But I don't mean the process process, I mean what comes after it." She is really trying to keep her voice down.

"If you are talking about sex, you don't have to be ambiguous around me. I have already had this conversation with pateras." His tone is haughty. You giggle, and Thea stares at Thales with wide open eyes. He bows again and heads for the shed near the house to fetch the hammer. You fall back on the blanket, roaring with laughter.

The dinner is the usual mental kerfuffle, between two loud men, arguing about yet another billet, bolster plate or what not, ten children, five dogs, Heph does love dogs and they manage to sneak with him anywhere he goes, three cats, these are Thalia's, a random turkey that came gods know where from last week, doves and wrens that follow you everywhere, and a very bulbous mistress of the house. Thalia is an adorable cannonball with every single wean, which so works for her.

At some point Killi gets smacked on the head with a wooden spoon. He gods honestly can't keep his hands off her. She is rushing by him to catch yet another toddler climbing on a shelf, you can't help her, you are taking her third one off from a window, and her husband goes for a grope. And that is while holding two squirming ones in his arms. All the work in the forge does pay off, as you said to her all those years ago. He is all rock hard muscles. She says you can break your finger if you poke him. The thud of the spoon makes her youngest giggle in his high chair. Oh wait, this one isn't the youngest. OK, you are sorry, but at least you remember the names. Alexandros, Bion, Chloe, Demetrios, Eudocia, Filippo, after his brother of course, and Gennadios. You do get the picture, right? So the next one is either Heraclius after Killi's dad or Helena. Something tells you that as much as they say it is a joke, they do indeed plan to go through the whole alphabet.

At the end of the evening when you finally manage to say goodbye to the other family and drag apart the two men who are still not done arguing about the axial rolls, and that is considering they are going see each other first thing in the bloody morning tomorrow, all four of you are plodding home. The houses are on two sides of the same green hill, with the forge on top between them. Heph is carrying Dan and Una, both sleeping in his arms, Thales sleepily shuffling in front of you two, only one eye open probably.

You stop and lift your face to the starry sky. Heph slows down and turns around. "Poulaki?" You lower your eyes and look at your husband. More silver on his temples and above his forehead, his beard still black, the cheeks slightly flushed from all the wine they drank at the dinner, he is indeed a dreamboat. You smile to him and say, "I am very happy Zeus decided to marry me out to you." His brows fly up.

"What brought this up, poulaki?" You shrug.

"Just wanted you to know I consider myself a very lucky bird." Thales opens the front door, and passing through the hall he lights up the oil lamp. You hear him stomp upstairs, no doubt to fall in his bed without even taking his sandals off, and you turn to see Heph looking at you warmly.

"Let me put these two down and tell me all about how lucky you consider yourself." You smirk and theatrically flutter your lashes at him.

"Oh my, that would take all night." He chuckles, keeping his voice down, and walks into the house.

You turn around and look at the dark yard. Toys and random rubbish littering the grass, swings on a branch of an oaktree, the dogs' kennel empty as usual, the buggers are obviously already in the kitchen, snoring by the firepit, the basket with laundry forgotten on the porch… A familiar pair of warm arms wraps around you, and your husband buries his nose in your curls.

"Thea stopped by today." He hums into your hair and starts slowly rocking you from side to side. It is almost a dance, and honestly the best you can hope for in terms of knees-up with this one. He really needs to be bladdered to dance. Deep rooted complex. Complete bollocks by the way, he is rather graceful for a six feet four hench bloke with a limp. He did well at your wedding. "It's a boy."

He doesn't stop moving, and a low rumble erupts in his yummy chest. Oh the chest! He always promises to smack your arse if you call it purring, which obviously makes you do it more often. He gives out a totally fake sad sigh.

"So it worked this morning? Bugger. Sod your godly know-it-all friends! And I was hoping we would just have to keep on going to ensure the result."

You turn around and meet his laughing eyes. "We definitely should keep on going!" He bends down to let you wrap your arms around his neck. You snog for a wee bit, and then you twist out of his bone-crushing embrace. "Common, I still have to tell you in the littlest detail why I think I am the luckiest woman in the whole world."

He guffaws, you pick up his hand and lead him upstairs.

**A/N: Reviews are highly appretiated ;) Let me know how I did with wrapping up this story :) **

**And don't forget to check out the teaser for the sequel in the next chapter.**


	36. Chapter 36

**Teaser for "Ice Ice Baby"**

You are really dischuffed, they don't have your favourite apples today. The merchant mournfully squawks and fusses around you, but you feel irritated. Let's face it, you had a bit of a row with your husband at the brekkie, and now everything gets your knickers in a twist. You are giving a red apple in your hand a death glare, and the merchant blabbers away.

"Take it, my lady, try it. You will never to go back to your old preferences."

"I am rather constant in my tastes, dear sir." You give him your best snooty stare. You still have the skills from the goddess times. "If I like a thing, I never want another."

Nonetheless, you take a bite from the fruit and turn around to walk on. You bump into someone, and the apple falls out of your hand. Bollocks, pity, it wasn't that bad, perhaps a bit too tangy for your taste. And then with a shock you stare at the red apple with a white where you bit, now on the palm of the person you bumped into. It is a man, tall and lanky, he has knelt with a mental speed to catch it. Your eyes slide from the narrow elegant hand, with strong long fingers, to a masculine wrist, along a forearm clad in a barbarian clobber, to the wide shoulders, and finally you meet a pair of the most astonishing green eyes you have seen in your life. He has a pale face, narrow, striking cheekbones. He gives you a wide smile, all his even white teeth are on display, and then he straightens up. Gee, that's a hell of a lanky streak of piss!

"My lady," he bows slightly and stretches the open palm to you with your apple on it. Blimey, your knees literally buckle. Fucking fuck, that voice has to be sodding illegal! He slightly tilts his head, a strand of black hair falls on his eyes, and he smiles even wider, as if it were possible. Seriously, he is bloody mesmerizing! OK, Phro, repeat after yourself, you are a married woman, you are a married woman! And he technically isn't even attractive, it's just the intensity of the stare and the fucking voice! Take the bloody apple and go home, Phro. "Your fruit, darling."

You grab the bleeding apple and give him a very unnatural smile. What is fucking wrong with you, Phro? In the last twelve years you haven't even looked at a single bloke besides the one you shag every night. Seriously, you can count the nights when you didn't on the fingers of one hand. Well, maybe two hands. OK, you are exaggerating, but you get the picture. And all of a bloody sudden you are ogling a skinny git in black leather trousers. Seriously, is he not chafing there? Bloody fuck, not thinking about the content of his trousers!

"Thank you, kind sir." You swirl on your heels and are pretty much ready to sprint home, when the skinny git's voice behind you makes you freeze.

"Astonishing. It has only been twelve years, and you managed to have forgotten everything. Do you have no remnants of your powers, Aphrodite?"

You slowly turn around. Breathe, Phro, breathe… The tosser is standing, studying you, and you gulp. Fuck, it's like being under a stare of a poisonous snake. And also you are slightly randy. It's the sodding voice. And the cheekbones. Fuck…

"Who are you?" He gives you a benevolent smile and makes a wide step towards you. Suddenly his chest, and my oh my, there are muscles on this lean body, is right in front of your eyes, fuck, not looking, not looking, and he picks up your hand. He lifts it to his lips. They are thin. Aha, concentrate on the flaws, Phro. Damn, he is all one big flaw, why is it working then? Bugger. He has very long fingers, and your hand is fully enveloped in his. Seriously, does he need to be so slow?! It feels like he is bloody fondling it!

"I am Loki of Asgard. And I'm burdened with glorious purpose." You gulp. Damn Norse barbarians! How come you didn't feel any power in him?! You might be mortal these days, but you still have your barmy ESP most of the time.

"Which is?" You give him a stern stare. You are good at it, you have four sprogs.

"I came to steal you away, Aphrodite." His lips are finally pressed to your knuckles, and your body jolts.

Oh poop!


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Here is the deal, ****my lovelies****! Since we have just figured out this aggro with crossovers, and that they are not available for general public, I decided to get rid of crossover status for this fic, so that other readers could enjoy it too. But I felt bad to just post this A/N as a separate chapter to put this fic into the update feed, because that is too petty even for me :) So I wrote a small fic with Phro and Heph :)**

**The story takes place after they have given up their immortality, Thales and Una are already born, and at the end we might even see the conception of our beloved Danaus (Dain) :D Confess, he is your favourite, isn't he? ;)**

**I don't know how many parts it'll have, it's galloping away from me as usual :) But you are not complaining, right? ;)**

* * *

ALL THE WORLD AND HIS WIFE

You are chopping carrots in the kitchen, Una is sitting in her chair behind you, whining and banging her spoon to the table. She isn't chuffed with the content of her mug, but you ran out of oranges yesterday, and you grit your teeth. Breathe, Phro, breathe, she is a toddler, they have no patience. You have none either today, you are ovulating, and it means cocked up mood. You stab the carrot murderously, and then Thales barges into the kitchen and snatches an olive from a bowl on the table.

"Gods, Thales, have you at least washed your hands?" You snarl at him and then close your eyes and take a deep breath in, "Sorry, love, I'm all titchy today. But please, I'm almost done with lunch, so no more snacking, alright?" He nods and then jumps up to you and pecks your cheek. He is very tall, dangly, looked totally like his father. The same blue eyes and dark luscious curls. You pat his upper arm. He turns to his sister and makes a funny face, obviously trying to cheer her up. She is still dischuffed, which she expresses rather eloquently. Damn her vocabulary!

"Common, Una, give us a smile!" Thales picks up a parsley branch and starts shaking it before her nose.

"She is no kitten, Thales, that will hardly entertain her," Heph's sarcastic voice from the door makes all three of you look at him, and Una bursts into happy squealing and sniggering. Yeah, daddy's girl. "How's my warrior princess today?" He picks her up, and she is hugging his neck, an avalanche of news pouring on his head.

"There was no orange juice… Mama gave me other orange juice, but it's not orange! I had bath in the morning, and the big dog stole Mama's kaseri, and she is ovulating!" You feel your cheeks burn like Heph's forge, and he lifts one brow and looks at you. You pull your apron up and hide your face behind it.

"Did Thea stop by this morning?" Heph's voice is jolly, and you groan. You feel so grotty, it's hot, you are not done with the nosh, your hair is sticking out, you are sweaty and nippy, and your emotions are all over the place.

"Alright, my darlings, here is what we are going to do," Heph pushes Una into Thales' hands, who was obviously trying to knick more olives from the bowl. "You two are going to visit Aunt Thalia, I saw her on the way from the forge, and she is baking malitini, and she wants to see you two for dinner too." Excited squee leaves you slightly deaf, and your two children disappear.

You are looking at Heph in confusion. You also might be slightly pissed off, you've been toiling at this briam like a pillock, the day is scorching, the stove was adding to the aggro, and you burnt your hand. Heph comes up to you and looks over your shoulder into the pot.

"Mmmm, your briam," he snatches a slice of eggplant, and you are fighting an urge to smack him with a wooden spoon to the forehead. He looks at you askew and places the veggie in his mouth, quite obviously stretching the gesture, squinting his eyes like a giant cat, fluffy black lashes, and then the git rounds his lips and pulls his finger out of his mouth slowly. Even with your knickers in a knot, you gulp and squirm. Bloody hades, what a sexy beast!

His hands slide around your waist, you step closer, you are all prepared for a nice deep snog, and then you remember the sprogs are out of the house, and this very kitchen table has been tested for knobbing repeatedly. Yes, yes, yum! Heph, table, now! He unties the belt of the apron, throws it aside theatrically, you might be panting, mostly from the view of the suddenly darkened colour of his icy eyes, and then he quickly pecks your lips, grabs your shoulders, turns you around and pushes you towards the stairs that go to the second floor. Oh? So you are going to bed? Ace, bed will work too.

"Go, freshen up, I'll pack the nosh." What? You look at him over your shoulder. What?! "Common, move your delicious bum," he gives it a light affectionate smack, "We are going to the picnic."

What even?.. But who are you to complain, right? You walk upstairs, drag the manky tunic off yourself, and splash cold water on your face and neck. Oh, that's a bloody bliss! You change in a lighter, fresh tunic, and when you are tying the belts of your sandals, your old pot is yelling from downstairs that the basket is ready and he is starving. Something tells you the clot isn't talking about the food. You rush downstairs, jumping on one foot from time to time, to fix the falling sandal. You slip, slide down a few stairs, yelp, and he catches your clumsy muggins at the bottom of stairs. Your body slams into his rock hard, scorching chest, oh fuck me, you are randy, and he quickly pushes away from him.

"Don't touch me or we will spend all day right here on the floor," he sounds grumpy, and you giggle. Suddenly the day is ace, and you feel wicked happy. He grabs your hand and drags you after him, basket in his other hand.

* * *

The blanket is spread on the ground, in a nice secluded corner in your favourite oak tree grove, and his lips are exploring your buttocks. He has you on your stomach, your tunic is bunched up and he is placing little nips and kisses on your bum. And that is after commanding you to eat. You are chewing at a roasted okra. It is supposed to help to conceive, and somehow you ended up married to a pregnancy boffin. And apparently he wants another bairn.

"Do you think that maybe actual shag would help your cause better than me eating this thing?" You wave the veg in the air, and he playfully rubs his beard to your thigh.

"We'll get there, but you agreed to try, and Thalia says okra is the best source of folic acid." You giggle.

"As if she needs to know this! Thalia is up the duff when Killilos just looks her way. Sometimes I doubt which one of us is a former fertility goddess." You feel him draw some patterns on your skin with the tip of his long nose. Gods, you married a god of shag. Well, technically, you married a mortal, you two had given up your immortality by then, but blimey, the bloke knows what he is doing.

"Chew you okra, poulaki," his tone is laughing, and you obediently munch. And then you see two golden women standing a few feet away from your blanket. You freeze with okra between your teeth.

Seriously, what the fuck? Two chicks, made of gold, rather fit, in golden tunics are standing and staring at you. Your husband apparently isn't up to date with the changes in your surroundings, he is engaged. He is spreading your legs, and a tip of his finger brushes at your fanny. Your jaw clenches, and there is a loud crunch from the okra you had in your mouth.

"Are you done with your food, poulaki?" His low velvet voice is nothing but a purr, and he is still kissing your buttocks, while shuffling with something there, you assume he is untying his trousers.

"Yeah sort of, but there are two birds made of gold staring at us, so you might reconsider." His mouth freezes, and then he sharply sit up. His first action is to pull your tunic down, hiding your jacksie from view. Seriously, that's his priority at the moment?

"Master," one of the chicks murmurs, and they both gracefully bow. What the actual…?

"Heph?" You look at him and see that he is blanched. "Heph, who is that?" His jaw is clenched, and he clears his throat.

"Kourai Khryseai."

"A what what?" The chicks straightened up, and although you just saw the lips of one of them move rather naturally, they have bloody blank faces, their eyes glued to your husband's pale clock.

"Kourai Khryseai. They were my automatons, when I was a god of fire. They… tended to me..." Suddenly his cheeks are flushed above his beard, and your temper flares up.

"What?" You hiss, and he squirms. What the fuck? He had golden sex dolls?! "Are you telling me that when you were still a manky god, you had two golden slags living with you and 'tending' to you?" Your tone is menacing, and he quite obviously is having kittens.

"They are just moving statues. Well, they are intelligent… But I had very lonely life..."

"What?!" Your voice is shrieky, and you jump up. "What?!" You apparently have nothing better to say, and you are ovulating, so you are entitled. You shove him, your hands slam into his shoulders, he falls backwards on the ground, and suddenly the hands of one of the golden whores lock around your neck. It is pressing hard, you are gulping for breath, everything goes bloody blurry, and then Heph yells.

"No, back!" It immediately releases you, and you fall on the blanket coughing and heaving. He picks you up and pulls you into himself. "I'm sorry, so sorry, poulaki. Are you alright? Poulaki?" His voice is panicked, and you nod through the pain in your neck. It's still hard to speak. "They are just automatons, they perceive danger to me and react… I'm so so sorry, oh poulaki…" You are clawing at his shoulders, that was bloody terrifying! "Stay and not move until I allow!" He growls at them, the statues freeze, you are staring at them from the corner of your eye. He is running his hands over your hair, you curled up on his lap, and he sounds completely gutted, "I am so sorry, poulaki..."

"Not your fault," you choke out, and then give him a tentative punch under his ribs. The statues aren't moving, and you give him another one, more sensitive. He oophs but doesn't try to protect his defenseless side. He is actually kissing your other hand, his eyes miserable, and fuck it, you've already forgiven him. Doesn't mean you are not going to nag! You are his trouble and strife after all! You punch him again.

"You said it wasn't my fault," he is making puppy eyes still tolerating your violence stoically.

"That's not for bloody choking! That's for having two gold doxies in your house!"

"I didn't know you then! And again, you are the only decent goddess there, I didn't want to deal with those bitches. Automatons were easier!" You punch him again, and this time he yelps. He knows you too well, he knows you are less pissed off now.

"What are they even doing here?! Shouldn't they be 'tending' to Filippo now?" Your tone is venomous, and he gives them an attentive look.

"You, on my right, speak. But only speak, no more moving."

"Yes, master," one of the statutes answers, its eyes still closed. That is so creepy you hide into him. But you still can't help but jab him.

"Really? 'You on my right', Heph? Shouldn't you have given them names at least." They are indeed identical, and then you have a manky thought. One would have sufficed, it's not like he actually needed a housekeeper. Which means having two of them had a rather particular purpose. You give him a smack at the back of his head.

"What?" He is looking at you in confusion.

"Two of them! You wanker!" Right, you are ovulating, emotions up the roof, blimey! "Do you maybe want two of me as well?! Could have conjured the second one while you still had your powers!" You are narrowing your eyes, and he gives you a slightly condescending look. You know you are mental at the mo, but seriously?! You hiss and try to climb off his lap. He doesn't let you, his arms wrapped around you, and he nuzzles your neck.

"Aphrodite..."

"If you say that even one of me is too much, you will sleep with dogs for a week," you are snarling, and he chuckles into your skin.

"I was going to say you are just the perfect amount of love I have in my life." He is purring, and it is bloody working. Damn your hormones, you feel all mushy and slack in his arms.

"Oh you..." You look in his eyes, he cups your face and tenderly kisses your lips. You two are snogging for a bit, and then he sighs into your mouth. He is right, something is iffy, you need to investigate, but you feel so warm and enamoured, that you don't give a shite about two golden chicks, and you push him on the blanket, and he purrs under your hands. Oh, the sweet rumbling in his glorious chest! Brill! You bunch up his tunic and quickly kiss his stomach. Oh the hairy chest! And the line of black hair going down, and you do know where it leads, and you think you might like this route.

"P-poulaki, I still think we should… Oh gods… Find out what they are… Bloody hades, how do you always have something new?!" His voice is choked, and you have already untied the strings on his trousers. He is still wearing his barbarian clobber these days, but you learnt to appreciate the sensation of pushing your hand down them and finding the hot, long, thick, majestic…

"Cock!" He rasps out and suddenly sits up. You topple to the side and give him a glare. "I just figured it out! You, the one allowed to speak, are your sisters in danger? Is that why you are here?"

"Yes, the Bronze temple has fallen, Celedones are destroyed, our sisters are gone," the mechanical voice doesn't delegate any emotions to be honest, but then you see a golden tear running down the statue's cheek. It is both heartbreaking and creepy like hell, and you look at Heph.

"Celedones," he explains, "Another pair of the same automatons that I made for Apollo, only they could also sing, they were in his temple… Something happened..."

"Why are they here?" You ask dumbfounded, "Why not go to Filippo?"

"He might not even know he can make them move, they came to me because I'd allow them to talk. He probably thought they were just decorations, they were still probably in that closet..." You give him a glare, but it's not the time for education on women's rights. Well, golden animatronic women, but still… Tosser. "But they have the connection to all my creations, they were born of the same fire, and Celedones are gone..." It is starting to dawn on you.

"We need to let Olympus know," your voice is hollow, and he nods. Neither of you is chuffed about it, the last thing you want to do is to associate with those twats again. You sigh and get up.

"I'll call Thea."

_To be continued..._


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: My darlings, upon reader T.'s request I'm finishing this fic as well. I won't go back to "Ice Ice Baby!" before finishing Hogwarts adventures, because that would be too many stories running at the same time. I will just finish ****this companion piece (4 - 5 chapters max)****. But I haven't forgotten about the Loki adventures! The scrummy Norse prick will get the well deserved attention after Hogwarts is over:P**

* * *

**A/N#2: ****ANNOUNCEMENT!**

**I have been encouraged by my editor to consider turning "Stop, Hammer Time!" into ****a book****! **

**A lot will have to be reworked: many quotes will be 'weeded,' Tolkien's references pulled out, and characters expanded, but… :)**

**Phro and Heph of course will remain the same!**

**If I decide to go with this idea, I will leave only a few first chapters of the story here, as a teaser, so if you feel like it reread this story while it's still here :)**

**Also,**** Winnipeg Art Gallery is having the Olympus Exhibit**** this Summer. Check out my Twitter ( katyakolmakov) and Instagram (kkolmakov) for updates on 'research' that I will be doing this week, meaning I'm going to go to the Gallery and giggle imagining Heph and Phro and their 'ace shag' :D**

* * *

**Love you, my best readers any writer can wish for :P**

**kkolmakov**

* * *

The two of you are rummaging through the closet under the stairs in your house, a typical we've-been-hitched-for-a-while lazy argy-bargy between the two of you.

"Have you ringed up Thea? Did you light up the incense at the altar?"

"Yes," you hiss at him, "And I'm telling you again, she's not picking up."

"Have you tried praying?" He is going for his I-am-a-patient-husband-of-a-nutter tone, and you growl at him.

"Yes, I did."

"And?" Seriously?! You feel like ending him with the discus you just found under a pile of old chitons.

"And null."

"What exactly did you say?" You move the bloody discus away from yourself to avoid temptation. You love the tosser, you love the tosser, repeat after yourself, Phro, you love the tosser.

"Athena of the steel-grey eyes and steady gaze, goddess who sees the battlefield entire, who knows each soldier on the field, who whispers in each general's ear, and all this rubbish." Your tone is clearly signifying you think he is a gormless berk if you've ever seen one, and he pulls out an old cover for that kline you had in the parlour and cocks a brow. Bugger, it always makes you so randy!

"Remember this kline..."

"Don't start!" You clasp a hand over his mouth, "We have job to do." And you do remember the kline. Bloody Hades, the kline was ace. You made Unna on the kline. He wiggles his eyebrows, which looks bloody ridiculous since your hand is still covering the bottom of his face, and you giggle and quickly kiss the tip of the long nose. "Oh, belt it! So, did you find anything?"

"I am certain I had it here, but no..." He shakes off your hand and sticks his head into the closet. You are ogling the bulging biceps and the long muscles along his spine clearly visible under the tunic. Yum. Heph's back is one of your favourite treats. You just love sitting on his arse and run your hands on the wide tanned back.

"I can pretty much hear you imagining straddling my back from here," his voice from the closet is shaking with laughter, and you smack the plonker's arse. Oh, the nerve in him! "And I still don't know where the bloody hammer is..." He climbs out, his curls sticking out under barmy angles, and you giggle.

"So, the temple of Apollo will fall just because you never put your stuff where it belongs." You are using your wifely voice, oddly enough fake nagging seems to properly entertain him. He gives you a white-toothed grin.

"Well, it's not like it has any magic powers, it's just an old hammer. Filippo just gave it to me as a souvenir..."

"And we are looking for it why?" You are sitting on the floor, legs crossed, while his top part once again disappears in the closet. An old amphora rolls off a shelf above him and lands between his shoulder blades. He hisses some swearing but he censors them, a habit left after having two sprogs, so he mentions "shoots" and "fogging," and then with a triumphant "a-ha" he pulls out a giant hammer from under a crate of random parchments.

"Well, poulaki, I can't use it since I have no powers, and it's just a hammer, but…" He is holding a theatrical pause, but you are not feeding his narcissism. But then you remember that he has abandonment issues and you love him like a daft teenage peasant girl, so you smile to him and express vivid interest with your whole body. He immediately prims up and swirls the hammer in his hand dramatically. And yes, it is super fit! The hammer is humongous and his upper arms turn you into a puddle of randiness.

"But they can!" he announces and points at the golden chicks. You turn your head. He ordered them to march to the house with you, and now they are standing in the corner. They give you creeps. You used to be OK with the whole godly shite, but you bloody abdicated for the very reason you now want this aggro to end asap. You want normal mortal life, with bairns, and dogs, and cooking dinner, and knobbing your husband. A lot. Preferably soon. You squirm on your bum. It's a leftover fertility thing from the goddess years. You are just randy all the time. And ovulating. And again, you are married to a dreamboat!

"So, we are giving them the hammer to do what exactly?"

"Communicate with Filippo hopefully. I made the hammer myself. They will charge it with Olympus mojo, I'll pick it up and either reach him, or will be able to ask him to come." You are giving him a slightly doubtful look but 'for better and for worse' as you promised at that altar. You rub your hand to his shoulder and quickly peck his cheek.

"It's the best plan that we have, and it sounds legit." You give him a supportive nuzzle. You are a good wife. It's not that hard with him, he is really working on being a good husband. He catches the back of your head and pulls you into a very, very heated snog. Wow, that was not very marital, that was more of a third date type of thing, but who are you to complain?

He batters off your hand you were not aware you were stretching to his trousers, and moves away from you. You are properly bladdered, but yeah, you two are in the middle of some barney. He gets up and twirls the hammer in his hand again in a trained gesture. Hot, hot, hot! Concentrate, Phro, you might have some godly shite to suss these days. Again. Gee, you just wanted a picnic and a shag, hopefully with a nice little conception as a result. Is it too much to ask?

He walks up to one of the golden chicks, - and you are still giving him Hades treatment for this, and you will look into it, women's rights and shite, - and then he commands them to link their hands over it. They do, two golden hands cover the handle, and… zilch. Not a sausage. Zero. Nada.

A snide remark on the performance issues and inefficient hammers pops in your head, and you keep it to yourself. You get up from the floor and come up to him. He looks gutted.

And then a ball of red arse electricity blasts between the golden chicks hands, and they fly in two opposite directions, the hammer falls on the floor with a bloody deafening bang, and a crimson cloud of some manky mist pours up from out of it. Yuck, you take a step back.

The mist turns into Filippo's noggin, first the back of it, and then he turns and sees Heph.

"Uncle!" His usually soft low voice booms in your bedroom.

"Gee, scale it down a bit, pillock," you hiss under your breath, but he hears and looks at you.

"My apologies, theia," he slightly nods. You love it when he calls you 'auntie.' "Uncle, how did you reach me? Nevermind, we have more important things to discuss..."

"Such as these?" Heph asks sarcastically and steps aside, allowing Filippo to see the two golden birds that have already got up and are standing by the wall.

"Are these..?" Filippo's eyes are wide open.

"Kourai Khryseai, yes," Heph confirms. "They came to me to inform me that their sisters in Delphi have been destroyed."

"That explains it…" Filippo mournfully shakes his head. "We lost all contact with Delphi several hours ago, thought it's just some jamming from the storm, but I will have to send Hermes to look into it. Zeus is off the radar, another shagging bender..." Filippo's face looks disgusted. Well, Filippo himself is a loyal husband and a loving father, he clearly has bloody issues with Almighty's wandering cock of wonder. Who doesn't, yeah? "Thank you for letting me know, uncle." Heph nods, still frowning.

You shortly wonder if he feels left out of action. He is no god anymore. You step to him and hook your arm through his. He looks down at you. You squeeze his biceps, seriously, requires both your hands, oh yum. Uhem, you are distracted again. But seriously, you are ovulating, and he is so shagalicious…

The two of you have a quick silent conversation you've mastered pretty quickly in this marriage. His thick black brow twitches, he is sort of asking what you think about it, and you give him a wee smile, in the corners of your lips. 'I'm with you no matter what' is your answer. It is always your answer. He pauses for a mo, and then he sighs and turns to Filippo again.

"Good luck, anipsios. I'll send Kourai Khryseai to you. They will listen to you now." You give him a little pointed cough. He looks at your from the corner of his eye. "And take care of them afterwards..." Your second cough is a wee bit louder. "Set them free or something, make them mortal..." His tone is uncertain, and you discreetly jab him with an elbow under his ribs. "Anyroad, cheers!" he hurriedly goodbyes, and Filippo nods. The crimson cloud goes out with a manky hiss.

Heph instructs the golden chicks and sends them away.

* * *

Suddenly the two of you are alone. In your bedroom. And the sprogs are gone till the end of the day.

Heph still looks sort of dischuffed and frowning, but you know how to cheer him up.

"So should I go get some okra, or you will do all the work?" you ask in an innocent sing-sing voice. He looks at you confused, and then it clicks.

"Aren't you in the mood, little one?" he asks sarcastically. No immediate throwing you on the bed and banging you like his hammer bangs a cast iron rod means he is still at sixes and sevens. Hm, rod… Giggle.

"I am," you purr, stepping closer, your hands splayed on his chest. Yum, Heph's chest! Bless Greek warm weather, just a thin tunic on him, and underneath it, the delicious, hairy, rock hard… Heph. And those aren't just his muscles that are hard here. Nudge nudge. You've been married to him long enough to know how to rub your leg to his just the right way. Well, hello… megahammer! "I am double randy right now. A. We were making a bairn here. B. I've just been reminded that we don't have to put up with the whole godly Olympus rubbish, and how ace our life is now..."

He pulls you into a snog. Point Phro. Clearly, the whole Kourai Khryseai aggro is done and closed in his noggin, and Heph you love and adore is back. Meaning he grabs you and throws you across the room, on the bed, with the leftover godly precision. You land with an oomph and start laughing. He is already on the end, and then his tunic flies behind him and across the room. Yes, yes, gimme, gimme, a former god after midnight! Phro needs her hammering. Seriously, you'll never be tired of all the hammer puns. And pounding jokes. And don't forget the banging innuendoes.

You spread your legs and he is bunching up the skirt of your tunic. Purrrrr, the hands! Large, hot, and skillful! Heph is very adept in making Phro a very, very happy woman!

And then with a most loud, arse terrifying bang one of the wall of your house is torn away, and the two of you, still tangled, his cock straining in his trousers and pressing into your gender bits, are staring at… well, you might be wrong here, but you think it's Python.

Fuck.


	39. Chapter 39

The two of you roll off the bed, your elbow meets the floor, and you hiss. And then you fly along the floor, scraping to the floorboards with your nails, like a moggy. Apparently, your old pot decided that stuffing you under a table this way is the best approach to saving you from the scaly git currently heaving and boggling its eyes where a wall used to be on your house.

On one hand, that's just daft. The two of you are mortal now. He might have couple talents of weight over you, but no godly mojo there anyroad. On the other hand, you're not complaining of the view of him in a 'come at me, bro' pose. Yum. The bulging muscles on the arms, the firmly planted feet, and the scowl - hot!

"Yo, Hephaestus!" the monster cheerfully greets your hubby and waves with a scaly paw the size of a chariot. "Sorry about the wall. Can never suss out the human door... window… thingies."

Heph lowers his arms.

"Pyth, fuck me, you freaked me out, you punter. And aye, that was a wall."

What the actual..? You get up and fix your tunic. Heph throws you an apologetic look over his shoulder.

"Sorry for the clanger, poulaki. I thought it was some bugger."

"Technically, I am a bugger," Python huffs a coarse laugh and grins in all his fangs and teeth. "But we are old mates with Hephaestus here. Ain't going to introduce me to the missus, you plonker?"

Heph smiles, and you step ahead.

"Aphrodite, this is Python, the Perilous Serpent of Delphi. And this is Phro, the former goddess of love."

You wave, carefully edging towards the now missing wall of your house. Sod the wall. You had an ace drawing of nymphs and satyrs going at it on the wall. Properly tickled your pickle. Well, alas.

At the closer look Python isn't that arse scary. There are scales, he's the size of a dhonis, and there are some mental tusks. There is also ginger fur here and there, but the peepers are smart, and he gives you a wink.

"So, how's she cuttin', Pyth?" Heph asks, and the serpent sighs and shifts between his feet, probably cocking up the veggies in your garden.

"You see, I got into this aggro with that golden boyo..."

"Apollo, I reckon?" Heph asks, and Python nods, looking somewhat guilty.

"Your muter sent me - apparently Apollo sided up with Zeus Almighty regarding some chick - and it's not like you can say 'no' to her, you know? She's a beast."

You giggle. A. Who's a beast here? And B. You have majorly kicked Hera's arse. You aren't afraid of the bitch.

"And so… I went to his poncy place, and buggered about a bit, and then he shot my jacksie!" His tone is sincerely upset, and as if confused, and you start coughing trying to hide your laughter. Heph throws you a cheeky look from the corner of his eye. Gods help you, you're going to ravish him like there's no tomorrow as soon as Pyth is outta here. And besides, you're no Europa, you can't wait 32 hours! Tick tock, little Phro needs her not so little little Heph!

"You need me to pull out the arrows, aren't you?" Heph asks, and the serpent enthusiastically nods.

"See?" Python twirls around, stomping loudly. Yeah, your garden is definitely done with. "The maggot made a poxy colander out of my arse! You made the gizmos. Me hoping you'd get the rap out."

You and Heph peek out. There are five golden arrows sticking out of the serpent's left buttock.

"I might not be able to, Pyth. No god anymore." Heph is studying the glittery arrows. Apollo does have a fancy for bling. Prat.

"Give it a go?" Python makes puppy eyes at Heph, and you gently tap your husband's shoulder, joining the sad peepers club. You feel sorry for the poor scaly plonker.

Heph rolls up his sleeves - oh la la! - and grabs the nearest fetching with both his hands. He pulls, the serpent whines.

"Gerronwiddit, cousin!" Python growls. "Me arse can wait only that long."

"Sorry, Pyth. It doesn't seem to work." Heph steps back and shifts his shoulders, making blood run faster. Yours speeds up too, and travels straight to nether regions. "I'll try again, but I told you. I'm no god now. You might have to ask my anipsios."

"The new Hephaestus?" Python sighs. "Didn't want to cause him argy-bargy with Zeus, you know? After all, he still has to work with that dosser. Thought I'd come to you since you're now a culchie."

"That I am," Heph agrees easily, and you snort. "Well, let's see if there is any tune left in this old lyre." Hells yeah, there is lashings of tune left in it. In your humble opinion, that is.

Heph presses his foot into Python's bun and pulls. Muscles bulge, Phro is close to fainting she's so randy, and with a loud squelching noise the first golden arrow leaves the monster's fleshy backside. You cheer and clap. Heph looks very chuffed with himself, the serpent is cringing.

After another half an hour of hard work, the arrows are piled up in the ruins of your cucumber patch, and the three of you sit down for a break.

The serpent's shattered, all floppy and pale - as much as scales show. For time to time he rolls on his side, mournfully observes his perforated jacksie, and emits a martyrly sigh.

"Stop fidgeting, you shufflebutt," Heph laughs. "Give me a mo, and I'll find you some balm to rub in. Just let me catch a breather." Heph and you are sitting leaning on your orange tree, your head on his shoulder.

"Ta, Hephaestus. Just worried to catch some lurgy."

"You're an ancient terrifying monster. You can't catch a lurgy." Heph laughs again and picks up your hand. "We are mortal, I'd be worried we'd have a reaction to your blood, or something."

"Hey!" Python looks sincerely offended. "I'm the child of Gaia, the Mother Goddess. If anything, my blood will make you more prolific!"

You carefully nudge Heph's side with your elbow. Prolific is what you're talking about! Yay for prolific! A rumbly chuckle rolls in his lush chest. You know this chuckle. It's 'Phro will be a very happy chick tonight' chuckle. You can't wait.

Another half an hour later, his butt rubbed and medicated, Python thanks the two of you in a hundredth time, bowing and wagging his giant tail, sadly cocking up even more of your garden, and then he's off. The two of you wave until he disappears slithering behind the nearest hill.

* * *

You turn to Heph, but don't have time to say anything. You're picked up and thrown over his shoulder, arse up. You bark a jolly laugh.

"Heph, there is no wall! And we are covered in Python's blood!"

"Perfect!" He affectionately pats your buttock. "Between your ovulation, the okra you ate, and all this goo, we have a sure shot!"

"Not so fast, mortal!" A familiar voice interrupts your quickly rising libido, and you start twisting your neck trying to see what the fuck is going on in front of Heph, although you might have an idea. "Where is the beast?"

Here comes Apollo, Zeus' golden boy, toff and ponce, in all his long haired, blonde glory, and excessive eyeliner.

"Howdy, guvna!" Heph sounds gleeful. It means he's going to clean Apollo's clock as soon as he puts you down on the floor. Yeah, they never liked each other. The peevish eejit is still better than His Grotty Lizardness Ares, but still…

"Answer me, mortal. Where is Python?" There's some shuffling, and you have a suspicion that the posh wanker is pointing his golden arrow on the bow at Heph. That's it! You've lost your bottle! You pat Heph's buttock.

"Turn me around, _moro mou_," you demand, and with a rumbly velvet chuckle he twirls, allowing you to give Apollo the well-deserved death butcher's.

"Listen, you uptight wazzock! I've had a long day! I'm peckish, I'm ovulating, and if you don't sod off this very moment, you'll observe me conceiving my next child right in front of your eyes. If you think that your presence will stop me from devouring this crumpet of a husband that I have, you're cruelly mistaken! So unless you want to see the mighty hammer of Hephaestus in action, I'd take your glowy golden arse, and go search for Python elsewhere!"

Apollo grows paler than his usual pasty self, and takes a step back.

There's a sudden loud pop in the air, and your best mate Thea manifests on the other end of the room. Starkers. Almost. She's hurriedly wrapping into a chiton. It's not hers, clearly, which is only confirmed by Bach, her beau and the God of Wine and Merry Making, in the similar state of undress, covering his wedding vegetables with his hands, standing behind her. The lop-eared hat is still on his head, funny enough.

"Phro, I heard of the Delphi temple!" Thea hollers with the full bloody capacity of her lungs, contained in her opulent bosom. "Are you fucking alright?! They said the beast was coming after your fella!"

She then observes the scene in front of her eyes, and gives you a questioning look. You gather lungfuls of air to tell them all to bugger off, when your modest dwelling - whatever is left of it - is graced with the presence of Zeus Almighty, in the left corner, face coloured with worry, and fake as fuck; and his trouble and strife, Hera the Gifted with the Stick Up Her Arse.

"Hephaestus, where is Python?" the Manky Queen of Olympus asks in her nasal posh voice, while her better half steps ahead but closes his cakehole before he can - obviously - ask the same.

Hera notices Zeus. He notices her. She bristles, he twitches. Heph is shaking with his sexy full bodied laugh under your tummy, since he's the smartest here, and knows what's coming.

The ginger snap is coming, you gits.

"That's it!" you yell, and the good old godly tude is back. "Darling, I would like to descend if it's not too much trouble."

Thea shrinks. She knows the frosty tone. Heph delicately puts you down, scoring a grope on the way, and you're suddenly in the middle of the room.

You could tell them your plans for the rest of the day. You can tell them the positions in which you will shag your husband in T time three minutes. You can tell them how he makes you feel like the Queen of Everything, since he's so good at the Heir to Throne. And then you decide that actions speak better than words.

You jerk off the peronai on your peplos, the kolpos unfolds, baring your tits, and at the same time you deftly, in a well trained movement pull the belt out of Heph's kecks.

"We are going to shag now. Are you staying to watch?"

There are only two of you left in three seconds. Although Zeus might have tried to linger, and Hera had to grab his hand, and they disappeared together in a cloud of her manky purple fog.

"Ace." Heph evaluates, and then his peepers hungrily fall on your girls.

You hook your finger on the collar of his tunic and pull. He doesn't need to be invited twice.

* * *

He takes a large step forward, hiking you up at the same time, and your legs go around him. Since the belt is conveniently off, you just need to reach for the strings on his trousers. He's meanwhile sucking on your neck. One of his scorching palms is under your arse, and you feel his fingers deftly pushing the knickers to the side. The other hand is pressed into the wall, where he's just smacked your back into. The two of you are in so much rush that once he pushes in, he scrapes your shoulder blades into the whitewash of the wall. You can't care less! It's so fucking sweet you emit a shrieky scream, and dig your heels into his bare arse!

"Oh yes! _O agape mou_!" You suspect, even though they left, the Olympians can still hear you, you're so loud. What can you do? The former god is a sex god!

He's pounding into you, his hips snapping, and your arms are tight around his neck. And then you grab handfuls of his silky dark waves and pull, making his look at you. His blue eyes are burning, hungry, and a shiver runs through your body.

"Make me a son, _o andras mou_," you whisper, and he snarls, and catches your mouth.

He's moving faster, you're moaning louder, and then you sink your nails into his shoulders, and cum, in a hot wave of the biggest fucking orgasm of your life - so far. Each time with Heph feels like it's lashings better than before, and can't get better than this! And then the next one is!

He growls and speeds up, and white dots dance in front of your eyes, and you can't see or hear anything, and everything is Heph, and your love, and the fire, and then he roars, and pumps into you couple more times, and you feel the hot cum hit your walls, and you sag in his arms.

The room is silent, except for the birds singing in the olive tree outside, and then he softly exhales, his warm breath tickling your neck.

"How are we calling this one?" you ask in a bleak tone. Your brain feels like avgolemono.

"Danaus," Heph answers raspily, and tenderly kisses your temple.

"What if it's a girl?" You shift and meet his lazy sated eyes.

"You asked for a son, poulaki. And I always satisfy my lady's wishes." You smile to him, and lean into a kiss.

Danaus is born nine months later, even before a new wall is finished in your house. Good thing, you live in Greece. Sleeping under improvised tents is just craic for your bairns, and sometimes all five of you just lie and watch stars fall.

**THE END**

**P. S. The Golden Chicks were turned in mortal by the new Hephaestus, and lived happily after, serving as priestesses in the new Aphrodite's temple.**

**P. P. S. Heph and Phro will come back in a series of funny and sexy one shots in this fic {tentative update schedule every Friday} and in _Ice Ice Baby!_ {both here and on archiveofourown; both sites updated simultaneously, hopefully every Wednesday}**

**Hope you'll join the fun!**

**Thank you,**

**Katya Kolmakov**


	40. Chapter 40

**Th****is is the first of "Heph and Phro getting used to mortal life" one-shots! Feel free to give prompts in reviews! ;)**

**Also, _Ice Ice Baby!_ might get an additional update on Monday, since readers seem to enjoy it! Don't forget to follow/favourite, and review ;)**

**Love you all,**

**K. K.**

* * *

**POULAKI AND... POULAKI**

"This is a kitchen." Heph's voice is shaking from hardly contained laughter, and you shove your elbow backwards, and hopefully under his ribs. He emits a very fake 'ooph.'

"I know what a kitchen looks like," you announce haughtily, and gingerly step in.

The two of you are back into the house he used to occupy with his nephews. The badarse godly forge is gone from the downstairs, and now it's just a small buggered shack. You adore it.

"You really don't have to learn to cook," he murmurs, and then you feel his lips on your neck at the back. He's purposefully nuzzling your hairline. Is this man ever satisfied? Even you with your former goddess of shag stamina need a break from time to time.

"We can't live on bread and manouri." You're determined to ignore the pleasant shivers running down your spine.

"You've managed quite well for the last two weeks." He's twisted his neck, and is now nibbling on your shoulder.

"I'm preggers, Heph. I need vitamins."

"We have apples." He makes the last attempt. "How about we go lie down for a jiffy, and then I'll cook something?"

"A. It won't be a jiffy. You said 'a jiffy' two days ago, and then we just went on shagging. And B." You're using your regal tone. "We are mortal now. You will have to work, and I need to learn to cook. At least for now, with Thales..." You rub your still flat stomach. "Maybe later I'll find a job too. What do you think I can do?"

"Anything you want." He answers way too fast, iffy innocent smile on his clock; and you throw him a suspicious look. Smart man. Any other answer would earn him another elbow punch.

"Alright. Cooking it is. How hard can it be, right?"

* * *

Quite bloody hard, apparently.

The two of you make a trip to agora, chatting and snogging on the way there. He's carrying a basket, you're hanging on the other arm. All nauseatingly sweet, of course. You try cheeses, fruit, and sweets from venders, everything tastes ace, and you're as chuffed as a lark.

And then you come home, and it turns out that a dead chicken still has its feathers. And you're supposed to gut it too. Sick rises, you dash outside, and have to sit in the shade for a bit, breathing purposefully.

Since his house is missing the wall, you can hear him yell that he'll take care of the plucking and gutting biz. You yell your thank you's. It's quiet for a bit, you're lounging, and then you hear him laugh loudly.

You stick your head into the kitchen, trying to avoid seeing the poor dead fowl.

"We can't cook," he chokes out through loud bouts of guffaws. You give him a confused look. "We can't start the fire!" You still can't suss out what's so funny.

"How do people start it?" you ask, and he folds in half, pressing his hands to his stomach. On one hand, he's hot as fuck, with the gleaming white teeth, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes. On the other hand, has he lost his marbles? "Heph?"

"People use flint and steel. But I never had to. I always cheated." He straightens up, grinning from ear to ear. "Just snapped my fingers. God of Fire, capisce?"

He looks so chuffed by the idea that he's now mortal - and not at all regretful that he got into this aggro with you - that you pounce at him. And then you drag him into the back room, where the two of you had camped for the last two weeks, on an improvised bed, made of the remnants of his old bed, the kline from the attic that you conjured when you still lodged there, and some blankets and sheets.

* * *

A jiffy later - a very, very long jiffy - you leave him peacefully asleep, and go back to the kitchen. The bloke needs kip. He worked very, very hard. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

The chicken is now starkers and has even been prepped. As much as you suss out, of course. At least it seems all clean. You pick it up with two fingers by one leg and lift. It's all pale, sad, and you properly don't get how this can turn into that golden coloured yummy pieces that Heph brought from agora couple days ago.

There are also other supplies that are clearly not fit for eating. Grains that are too hard, herbs that are too spicy, and olives. You chew a couple, following them with a slice of cheese, and decide to woman up.

You never paid much attention to mortal life, but surely a woman with a working noggin can figure it out. What's the worst that can happen? No, literally. You can get poisoning, and it can harm Thales. Which means whatever you eat has to be clean and cooked through. Which means water and fire.

Since the two of you landed here, and did nothing but… celebrate, Heph has been bringing lashings of water from the well in the yard. Mostly for shared baths, the point of which was additional fun provided by the buoyancy of water, and the pleasure of rubbing each other's backs.

You wash the ingredients, trying to ignore that the chicken looks like a naked man unfit for pentathlon. A few minutes later you, the table, the basins, and the floor are covered with water. You blow a stubborn curl tickling your nose, and sigh. At least, everything is more or less clean. Most surfaces squeak when you touch them. It does mean they are clean, right? Since there's an expression 'squeaky clean.' Isn't Phro a logical chick?

You do know one certain way to start fire. It's a bit risky, but you've been a goddess for a while, you know the ropes.

You come into the yard and look around. There must be some dry wood somewhere here. Fire does come from wood, right? You're not clueless, c'mon.

You find logs, vaguely remembering seeing similar ones in Heph's forge before, and you pile them in the middle of the yard.

And then yell into the sky, "Zeus is a daft wanker with a small pecker!"

There is a deafening rumble of thunder above your head, and a lightning hits the wood. Smiting moron.

"Thank you," you yell up. No answer comes. You refrain from sticking your tongue at the quickly clearing sky, pick up a small branch with a jolly little flame dancing on the tip, and return to the kitchen to light up the stove.

You decide not to get cocky and stick to basics. Surely, if you just put the chicken in some pot, pile veggies on top, and stick it into the oval entrance of the clay oven, it'll be edible. You're starting to feel very smart and wifely here. Maybe you'll get a pretty apron next, with a happy bow on your arse. Heph likes bows. And the arse.

Shaking your head to get your mind back onto the cooking business, you search the kitchen for a pot. There is a promising looking clay dish, and you place the bird and some veggies - if they are hard, they need to be cooked, right? - on it. The resulting gizmo is heavy, and balancing it in two hands, you stuff it in.

Who da man? Time to celebrate your first cooking success.

* * *

Heph is sleeping, in his usual manner - on his stomach, one hand under his cheek, another one prostrated to the side. The nose is squashed to the side, the hair is a mad mess around the head, hairy legs sticking out from under a cover - what a dreamboat!

You giggle and creep up to him. You're pondering between climbing on top and settling on those rock hard buttocks, and crawling under the cover, when his raspy voice makes you jump up slightly.

"Have I heard thunder?" He opens one eye, and the visible corner of his lips curls up.

"Nah, nothing of importance." You sound very pleased with yourself. C'mon, you're entitled! You just cooked a dinner. He lifts one arm and pats the mattress near him. You properly don't need to be asked twice.

* * *

You are happily rocking your hips in the Seesaw position, purring, and enjoying the view of Heph's shag face - burning eyes and softly parted lips - when a distinct smell of smoke reaches your nose.

"Heph, do you..." You don't get to finish since he bucks his hips, hits some back wall of yours, making your moan loudly, and sort of forget about the smoke for a wee bit.

Few minutes later it's impossible to ignore, though.

"Heph… Smoke… It burns… Smoke..." It does sound like you're chanting in the throes of randiness, but still, can't he smell it?! He sits up and pulls you closer, his hands now splayed on your shoulder blades. Seriously?! You love the plonker, and the whole gazing into your eyes passionately is ace, but the smoke!

"You're smoking too," he purrs, and you grab his nose.

"Smoke, Heph! As in fire!"

The blue eyes finally focus on your face, and eyebrows jump up questioningly.

"Are you cooking something?"

"Chicken?" you offer guiltily, and he grins.

"My little cook." He kisses the tip of your nose - and no, you didn't just blush like a daft loved up girl! - and he sniffs the air. "We should probably check."

You sigh and climb off him, throwing the last sad look at his… hammer. It was going so well! Damn it!

* * *

The chicken is burnt. As in completely bloody black. Those round veggies you put around it are black too. The whole monstrosity is pongy, and you swallow manky taste in your mouth.

"C'mon, it's not that bad," he's trying to cheer you up. You properly don't appreciate the patronising tone. You aren't a sprog that dropped a ball into a well! "It might still be edible inside."

It isn't. He pokes the bird with a knife and something gooey and bloody squirts out. You cringe.

"Well..." he starts, but apparently he has nothing comforting to say anymore. You poke the nearest ash covered veg with a knife and try a small piece from the middle. And immediately spit it out.

"Grotty!" Heph tries as well, and chuckles.

"You forgot salt, poulaki."

"A what?" you ask sounding lost, and he gently pats your bum. If he thinks that's a reassuring gesture, he's bloody mistaken!

Your lips tremble, and you feel tears run down your face. That's odd! You try to stop, but they just roll and roll, and then you make some strange noise. Just like one of those cute pink piglets that you saw on agora!

"Oh, poulaki!" Heph pulls you in, and starts tenderly stroking the back of your head. "It's really nothing! You've never done it before! And it's just a chicken!" You make another piglety sound, and he starts making shushing noises and rocking you from side to side.

You've just figured out two things. A. Now that you're mortal, you have less control over your feels. At least for now. You're a hard chick. You'll learn. B. Heph has absolutely no tolerance against the tears and quivering lips.

He's faffing around you, trying to cheer you up. He's even offering to try the cocked up chicken again, run to agora to get some other nosh, and keeps patting your head and looking into your eyes earnestly. What a poppet!

You wipe your tears and take a deep breath in, filing this new info for later. You need to calm your tits. The poor man is in shreds now.

"I'm OK." You give him a smile. "It'll be better next time. Maybe there are some parchments I can read up, or something." You give the burnt dinner a dischuffed look. "It's just a pity we wasted the food. That's twenty obols, and money doesn't grow on olive trees."

He suddenly picks you up under your arms and pulls you to his lips. You're thoroughly snogged, your limbs hanging down like those of a kitten. Not that you're complaining. He then stops snogging and is just gazing at you, quite ridiculously, let's face it - all loved up and soppy.

"What?" you ask.

"You are so… wifely!" He's now grinning, all teeth on display. You shrug. Whatever tickles his pickle, you guess.

"Cheese and bread?" you offer. You're peckish.

"In a jiffy," he answers. Here we go again!

**THE END**


End file.
